


Fallen Apart

by KifuSlick



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Multi, Not A Happy Ending, Scenes of torture, extreme violence, prison break - Freeform, remy loses his confidence, using sex and sex appeal as leverage, where is Rogue?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 72,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KifuSlick/pseuds/KifuSlick
Summary: The X-Mansion has been infiltrated by the government. All current X-Men and students had been taken into custody and thrown into a mutant prison with collars to keep them compliant. Remy does his best to keep his head held high, but is it enough?
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue/Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I wrote between July 2011 and July 2013 for FF that I'm simply copying and pasting without any updated editing. X-Men: Fallen Apart was actually the first X-Men role play game I've ever been on. I adopted the story that transpired there and turned it into story format in the point of view of the character I played: Gambit. The plot was mostly all there, I just needed to work on re-writing it in a more reading-friendly way, not to mention fixing up Gambit's personality. The chapters were lengthier than I was used to (as well as more descriptive), making this story more of a challenge at the time. This is the first ever novel-length story I have finished and I was very proud of my work. I later adapted an original story off of this plot, writing it for NaNo 2015. It still hasn't seen another draft, despite my best efforts (thanks depression).

**_Prologue_ **

_Remy, a man who typically pushed aside his emotions, was losing his grip. The events leading up to this moment were none too typical and probably would have broken any other man, but Remy was strong. He had the self confidence that was needed in the rough world, but he was losing his hope. His confidence was masked as a result of growing anxiety and those emotions. He was frustrated, beaten and turned into the little guy instead of the hot shot he was used to being. First it was the prison, taming him. He tasted success by breaking the captured mutants out, but even as a free man he was bounded and shackled. He quit the X-Men in hopes that he could regain his sense of freedom and abandon his sense of responsibility. He was paid to be a thief again. It wasn't enough._

_Now, a mere few months after the break out, Remy was uncertain of his choices. He was beginning to regret leaving his friends. He hadn't even realized that he had made such close acquaintances with many of them. Emotions would ruin him, destroy him, remove his identity. Plus, street word of sentinels were beginning to make him uneasy. Giant robots that possessed the means to take any mutant on. Remy had already gone to Xavier to warn him about those monsters and had been certain to remain insistent that he would not come back. Another decision Remy was beginning to regret. He was sure that Xavier would welcome Gambit back if he did decide to come back, but Remy had become insecure in thinking that his teammates would not. Again. It had taken a substantial amount of time to gain their trust in the first place._

_The situation was getting out of hand. Remy was losing control, both over himself and the situation around him. He was no longer the child he was before the prison, but an actual man. On or off the team, he held responsibility. Choices he made now would effect the fate of the mutant community. Before it would have been a game, a gambit. Now he wasn't in the mood. Despite how much he didn't want to, he was needed, whether his help was wanted or not. No matter how much he fought it, life caught up to him. He knew of consequences before, but not to this scale. If he didn't act now, a whole race would be wiped out. Remy's race-mutants. Thought the government might not have realized it, but their attack on mutants would have a disastrous consequence, beginning the form of the X-Men. So Remy would fight; he knew he couldn't ignore this. All he had to do was ask himself, who would he fight for? Mutants wasn't answer enough._

* * *

**Chapter One**

The mansion that housed the X-Men was supposed to have the best security from all around. Remy would know, as he was the creator of most of it. Granted, he had managed to bypass it at one point, but he reasoned that the situation was dire and that he had created it, thereby allowing him to know all of the faults. Plus, he was a mutant as well as the best professional thief around, so he figured that he didn't have anything to worry about. In fact, everyone that housed themselves in the mansion thought that they were safe. Combined with Gambit's security system, they could feel safe in knowing that every single one of the residents was a mutant as well, each with their own special powers. No one would ever have to worry about anyone unwanted gaining access.

Every single one of the students and teachers in that building was wrong. For all they knew, they were dead wrong.

Remy wasn't around when it happened, since he was off on one of his self-given missions. He had an old friend call in, told the Cajun to meet him at some place a couple hundred miles away, and he'd explain the situation there. Since Remy knew the nature of this man, he knew exactly why he didn't describe what was expected of him over the phone, where their conversation could easily be tapped in to by the government. Even though Remy was a part of the X-Men, and because of that he was told he was supposed to be on the right side of the law, he was still a thief at heart. While a lot of the senior X-Men frowned upon him for returning to that life every now and again, he did it anyway, though he typically kept quiet about what he had to do. Almost everyone had their suspicions that he was off to do no good, but none of them turned around to stop him, and they all stayed just as silent as he.

It was nighttime in Pennsylvania, but that didn't mean that all was well and good. In fact, Remy had just finished the deed that he was sent out to do by his friend, and he was trotting home like a good old boy. A small package was tucked away in his coat so that no one else could see it, and the coat wasn't so out of place thanks to the chilly air of the summer night. Although his friend was slightly irritated at Remy's leisurely pace, he continued to simply walk to his destination as if to not raise any suspicions. Thankfully for him not a lot of people were out and about at such an hour. Every now and again a pair of headlights coasted down the road, temporarily blinding the tall thief, but it was only light traffic in the suburbs; nothing to be worried about.

His soft-soled shoes didn't make a whisper against the pavement as he strolled along. Every now and again he paused at a house as if to study it, but he eventually was on his way again. He walked for countless blocks and many minutes, probably for a couple of miles, before he turned down another, shabbier street. Although the dead trees and slightly broken down houses would have scared some people witless, none of it bothered Remy in the least bit. He continued his slow and steady pace until he took another turn into a weed smothered walkway. Picking his way around the grass so as to not leave a trace, he climbed the few steps to the porch before he rapped his knuckles lightly against the thick wood. "'Ello, monsieur, I believe you can let me in now." He waited patiently for a couple of seconds, turning around to stare off to the neighboring houses, but no one came to answer the door. Clucking his tongue, he shuffled around again to knock harder against the door. "'Ey mon ami! T'ought dis was urgent matter or somet'in'! You ain't gonna jus' leave me on dis here porch, are ya? I feel like a—"

Remy stopped his raised voice at the same moment that he heard clinking on the other side of the door. A scowl set on his lips, he tapped his foot against the wood floor of the porch as he waited to be let in. With a whispered whoosh, the door swung open on its hinges, revealing a short man with scraggly hair, barely outlined by the running television behind him.

"What took you so long, hein? Told ya I would be back 'bout dis time, di'n't I?"

"No, ya said you'd be back two hours ago," the short man snapped, as if he had been angry with Remy the whole time. "Thought you got yerself caught or somethin', even though you keep sayin' that you're the best thief from all around." He stepped aside to let the taller man through. With a nod of his head, Remy cast another discreet glance over his shoulder before following his friend's unspoken invitation. "What were ya doin', man?"

Remy shrugged, looking around the nearly bare living room for a place to sit. He figured that the plush chair set right across from the TV would be where his friend would get comfortable, so he took the only other piece of furniture in the room: a fluffy foot stool. "I was gettin' what you asked for, Freddie. Can' rush a good heist, homme."

"My ass!" Freddie replied, shuffling forward to fall straight into the chair. Remy imagined the chair being pulled backwards just as Freddie let himself fall, leaving him to fall hard on his hind end with a string of curses to follow. He smirked at the thought, but quickly hid it away.

"What 'bout your cul? You want somet'in' done right, it take time. Be happy you came t' me, d'accord?" He found himself leaning back a little on the stool, but caught himself before he lost his balance and toppled backwards. Even though he had envisioned Freddie falling backwards to break his tailbone, Remy had no plans to do the exact same thing himself.

A sentence grumbled out of Freddie's mouth, and Remy let the sour man say his part, no matter how intelligible it had been, as he knew that soon after they'd get down to business. "So, ya act'ly get it?"

"Bien sûr!" Remy exclaimed gleefully, but he didn't reach inside his coat to grab the little package. "You still doubtin' me, vieux copain?" He mimicked a hurt expression, though he doubted that Freddie would take it seriously.

"Stop it with the French! Hones'ly, man, you're going to rot my brain more'n I've ever done it."

"I'll see what I can do 'bout it," Remy smugly replied.

"So I take it you did get it?"

"Right on dat."

"Well?"

"Well what?" Remy smirked at Freddie, well aware that he was being a thorn in his side, but that wouldn't stop him from having his fun.

"Do I get to see it?" Freddie roared, his impatience getting the better of him.

"Maybe if ya say please."

"Damn you, Remy! I'm not payin' you to crack jokes at me. Give me what I asked for!" Although the only light present in the room was from the colorful TV screen, Remy could tell that Freddie's face was brightening to a red. He knew he could take Freddie on if he decided to strike, but nudging his friend too far would ruin what business he had.

"No need t' shout, homme," Remy commented lightly, reaching in to his inside pocket. He fished around for a moment, sticking his tongue out in a theatrical way, before his face brightened as he pulled out the package he had been carrying around for Freddie. "Look'ee here! I found it!" He looked up to see Freddie's deepening scowl, and then handed the box over. Once it was out of his hands he almost leaned backwards again, remembering that the stool didn't have a back again just in time.

Almost greedy-like, Freddie ripped open the box and stared at the lifted good inside. Remy allowed him some alone time with his newly acquired possession, but eventually he had to cut in to the silence. "Y'know, I hate t' jus' up'n leave ya, but I got t'ings t' do back home. T'ink I'll be on my way now."

Freddie looked up from the box, replacing the top so that he could stuff it in his pants pocket. He had to shift in his chair to reach the opening of the jeans, emitting a grunt with the physical exertion, but once it was over he plopped back into the plush chair. Remy had risen to his feet in the meantime, and was dusting off the part of his coat he had been sitting on, but before he could make it to the door, Freddie had placed his hand in the crook of Remy's arm.

"S'up, Freddie?" Remy asked, looking first down at the hand, and then up at his friend's face. "Enjoy my comp'ny too much 'r somet'in'?"

"Ya still livin' with them super team people?"

Remy bunched his eyebrows together out of confusion, trying to figure out why this would concern Freddie now. He hadn't even talked about the X-Men around him, but he guessed that thanks to the media his alliance wasn't that hard to figure out. "Oui … but why da sudden interest?"

"'Cause you don't wanna go back there, Remy."

"What?" Remy exclaimed, taking a step back and ripping his arm from Freddie's grip. "Why you say dat?"

"Listen to me, Remy, you don't want to go back to that place." He made sure to pronounce each and every word with strong emphasis and without any of his northern accent.

"You crazy, mon ami." He thought through all of the possibilities as to why his distant friend would be saying such a thing. "I ain't got not'in' t' worry 'bout der. Been runnin' wit' dem folk f'r long 'nough now t' know dey don' mean me no harm."

"That's not my point," Freddie said, shaking his head. "It's not your so-called friends you have to worry about."

"'So-called' ya say? Hey, dat show how much you know." The words came out a little sharper than Remy had intended, but only because that simple phrasing had struck a nerve. Remy had had enough hardships concerning friends in his time, and he didn't need some man that thought himself wiser beyond his years to spread even more doubt on Remy's decisions; he did that enough for himself.

"Jus' … don't go back."

"I'll do what I damn well please." Remy skirted Freddie's reach to get to the door. He set his hand on the door knob, but before he turned it, he cast a glance over his shoulder to look at Freddie. "You can jus' go back t' mindin' yer own business, homme, an' t' leavin' me alone. Ya ain't called on a favor from me in a long time, an' le's leave it at dat 'gain, got it?"

"You're making a mistake, Remy," Freddie insisted, but his words were left unheard as Remy whisked out of the house. The door shut silently behind him, leaving Freddie alone with his plush chair and muted television.

"He t'ink I gonna listen when he ain't gonna give no reasons?" Remy asked out loud as he strode purposefully down the same sidewalk he had walked to get to the house. "Man used t' sprout nonsense while back, what make 'im t'ink dat he sane now?" He shook his head angrily as he turned the corner to the nicer street, heading in the opposite direction he had arrived from upon gathering Freddie's selected gem. "Dunno how I even tied myself up wit' 'im in da first place! Ain't like he helped me out much back den."

Remy continued on in silence as he made his way to an abandoned house where the neighborhood thinned out. A chipped for sale sign was stuck in the overgrown lawn, and a black box was hanging from the main entrance's door handle. Walking confidently up the driveway, he looked over at the closest neighbor before lifting up the door to the garage. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darker area inside before he made his way over to the small vehicle parked in the middle. Smiling a little, he led the motorcycle out on to the driveway, and then quietly dropped the door back to the way he found it. Once everything was perfect, he started up his bike and was on his way.

Although it was late at night, and in most cases he would go to sleep, Remy drove as far away from the neighborhood he had stolen from as he possibly could. For a while he had the fight playing over and over in his mind to keep him awake, but eventually his brain began to protest and he lost track of the miles he travelled. Since he had money at hand, he pulled his route from the highway he was riding along to a motel, where he crashed for the night.

It wasn't a very early time to which Remy woke up. A little groan escaped his lips as he lifted his head from the pillow and propped himself on to his elbows. Blinking the sleep from his uniquely colored eyes, he turned his head to catch a glimpse of the time. Still groggy, he tried to recall the time that he had to be out of the motel, a scowl making it to his lips when he realized he didn't have much time to be out and about. Even so, after turning around to sit up on the bed and under the covers, he fished for the remote beside the alarm clock and flicked on the television. He flipped through the channels almost without seeing them until he paused on the news channel. Remy's hope was that Freddie had been watching the news channel last night as well, and had saw a pack of alien monsters trying to take over New York City, which would explain why he wouldn't want Remy going back there, despite the fact that Remy had already been beamed up into space to fight the creatures there more than his fair share of times. If such a thing had actually happened, it would most likely be across all news stations for days, but Remy didn't see a thing. All was quiet on the … Eastern front.

The television switched off with the sound of a static click. The remote was replaced to its regular place by the alarm clock, and Remy was up on his feet. Making his way around the bed, he grabbed his keys and his coat, and he was on his way to check out.

Remy didn't have a pair of glasses to cover up his strange eyes when he had checked in because of the time, but the person behind the desk was so tired that it hadn't mattered then. In fact, Remy was surprised that he was let in to a motel at such an ungodly hour. Now, however, the aging woman behind the desk had wide eyes and an alert face. Remy slowed his pace in the doorway for a moment before waiting in the one-person line to return his key to his room.

The woman's eyes caught on Remy's own, and he saw the faint o of her mouth. "I di'n't do not'in' bad, if you were wonderin', chere," Remy assured her with a charming smile. He rested his elbows on the desk and leaned over a little. "Jus' 'cause I got funny eyes don' make me a bad guy."

"Uh, of course," she stuttered, tearing her gaze away from his face. "Um, you're all checked out, sir."

 _Free to go,_ Remy added nonverbally, flashing another smile before turning around. He passed a young couple on his way out, but these two were too wrapped up in themselves to even notice Remy was there, so the rest of his very brief stay at the motel was smooth riding. Finding his motorcycle exactly where he parked it, he kicked it to life and found his way back to the expressway.

The whole ride back to New York was uneventful. He had to stop at a gas station to fill up his bike so that he wouldn't end up walking the way back, but the few minutes spent there were quiet and peaceful. He tried to keep an ear out for some news, Freddie's advice still on his mind, but no one said anything about the Big Apple. Remy was beginning to think that Freddie was going slightly insane, which would help him disregard his warnings, but even so he was a little more anxious as he ate up the miles between him and his home with the X-Men.

By late afternoon, Remy had skirted the actual city so that he was standing at the gates of the mansion. Looking up to the building, he rested his hand on the iron bar of the gate door, not immediately entering. None of the children were playing outside, as they typically would be doing on a sunny, summer day, which instantly raised Remy's suspicions again, Freddie's words quickly jumping to the front of his mind again. Reaching in to his pocket to make sure that a pack of cards were handy, as well as his bo staff if he needed them, he opened up the moving fence and putted his motorcycle in to the grounds. Parking it in its designated spot, he climbed the steps to the grand entrance hall and called out. "Hello! Anyone here?" He added a mental call toward Charles Xavier, but no one answered back.

Swallowing and licking his lips nervously, he took the stairs to the second floor three at a time, quickly running down the hall to make it to Rogue's room. First he knocked, but when he didn't receive an immediate answer, he flung it open. Scanning the room quickly, he discovered it was empty, her sheets thrown in a heap on the floor. "Not t'inkin' dat dis good …" Remy breathed, turning around to run to Scott's room. If the things Remy expected that happened didn't actually happen, Scott would be the anchor here. Except when Remy shoved Scott's door open without even knocking, it was in the same state of upheaval as Rogue's. "Oh, now I _know_ somet'in's wrong."

"Right you are, Cajun," a voice snickered from behind him. Instantly grabbing for some cards from inside his coat, Remy spun around to meet the voice head-on.

"Aren't li'l soldiers like you not s'posed t' talk?" Remy inquired, his brave face already in place. "'Cause you jus' gave away your element o' surprise. I tell ya now dat it wa'n't a very good idea."

"Shut up and come with us!" the soldier shouted back, though his voice was calm enough that it didn't sound like he was losing control.

Remy blinked with mock surprise. "Come wit' you? But I only jus' met you. Tell ya what, I take a rain check on dat, 'kay?" And with that being said, he gave his cards a quick charge, tossed them towards the soldier and gave him a good kick in the chest for good measure. Once he was down, he grinned and sprinted down the hallway, figuring that life was good. As soon as he made it to the main entrance hall again and he took one step on to the staircase, his grin instantly disappeared. When the soldier meant 'us,' he wasn't kidding. "Must'a took da wrong way!" Remy shouted down to the them, as they already had their guns lifted to mark him as a target. "Don' worry, I be outta y'r hair in no time!"

Almost diving to the floor, Remy scrambled forward so that he was out of the guns' ranges, and then continued down a completely new hallway. Although he had been sprinting nearly the whole time, he wasn't out of breath as he launched himself through and window and into open space. Hitting the ground with a controlled roll, he cast a quick look up at the window he had just exited through, as well as all the other windows on the backside of the building, before taking off to grab his bike again so that he could get out of there.

A couple of soldiers were camped around his bike, but with the smiles on their faces, they were hardly intimidating. "Salut garcons," Remy called pleasantly, his staff already in hand. As they turned around to face him, their smiles already transformed into fear, they got to experience the feel of Remy's staff. They fell to the ground in a haphazard jumble of limbs, leaving Remy to make a dramatic exit on his bike. It quickly roared in to life as he pulled it around, speeding down the driveway. He heard a couple of shots over the sound of the motor, and dust kicked up from the pavement as the bullets missed him, but once he turned on to the road, he figured himself safe.

Paying no attention to speed limits, Remy zoomed down a few roads, trying and succeeding in keeping his route unplanned, until he felt like he lost the unmarked soldiers from the mansion. Looking around to make sure, he slowed his pace so that he wouldn't stick out to any local or state police, and headed on to another expressway to distance himself from the mansion.

Freddie had been right in telling Remy not to go back to the X-Men, but that didn't explain how he knew. Remy had a few choices that he could have taken, but the only one that he was going to take was going back to Freddie and demanding answers. With a goal in mind, Remy took the seven hour drive back to Freddie's rather weak safe house. Upon arrival, the sun had disappeared under the horizon, which meant bedtime for most people, but he knew that Freddie would still be awake.

Parking his bike in Freddie's driveway, he expected the motor to give himself away, but no one moved the curtains from around the windows or peeked through the door. Stomping up the steps and across the porch, Remy rapped his knuckles angrily against the wooden door, gave a slight pause before doing it again. "Freddie, open dis door now!" he roared and was awarded when his request was actually done.

"Remy?" was Freddie's only word.

Pushing Freddie into the house and onto his chair, Remy stood in front of him, blocking the television from his view. "How? How'd ya know 'bout dat ambush?"

"Ambush?" Freddie questioned, confusion obviously on his face. "That's not what I was talkin' 'bout, Remy."

"'S not?" Remy snorted. He moved to push Freddie back into the chair when he struggled to sit up straight. "Den why sprout all da crazy talk 'bout not goin' back, but givin' me no reasons, hein? Should'a known I wouldn't listen! What did ya know?"

Freddie cowered at Remy's furious face, as he'd never seen the Cajun so mad before in his life. If he knew anything at all, Remy didn't often show his true feelings, and he didn't get all bent out of shape over something so trivial. "I-I have connections," he stuttered, but when Remy didn't reply, only giving him a hard stare, he continued. "One of the guys … he … he talked to me last night when you were getting the gem. He said that a whole bunch'a soldiers were linin' up around a big mansion. I thought that … it was that place that you're livin' in."

"An' you know where I livin' 'cause o' dose connections?" Remy asked almost calmly.

"Yuh-yes." The change in tone, combined with his still furious face, was scarier than when his accented voice was angry as well. Much to Freddie's relief, Remy turned his back on him then, but he could still see those eyes of his burning in his mind's eye.

"You know what dose soldiers wanted?" Remy inquired, his voice still the essence of calm.

"N-no."

"Stop stutterin', you blatherin', good for not'in' weasel." Remy paced around the room a couple of times before stopping in front of Freddie again, grabbing on to the arms of the chair and leaning over Freddie's face. "My _friends_ are gone, an' you di'n't say a word 'bout dat."

"I didn't know!" Freddie shrieked.

"But you t'ink dat I'm wort' savin' over dem?" He stood up again, his eyes still smoldering an angry red. "You got dat wrong, mon ami. Completely backwards. Not'in' you can do will keep me from livin' a good life while dey off sufferin' who knows what." Because most of them had done nothing wrong, while Remy had a life full of sins to back up his suffering, and he was well aware of it. Most of the time he didn't bring it up around others, keeping it to himself, but that was his nature. "'Less you got more info'mation dat I can use, I don' _ever_ want t' hear from you again." He looked one more time at Freddie, whom shook his head violently. "Den au revoir."

Remy stepped toward the door, passing through it without a pause. A loud slam was heard a split second afterward, which allowed Freddie to release some of the tension that gathered in his limbs at Remy's angry display, but his breath still came more quickly and shallowly. Kicking his bike into action once again, Remy steered himself on the expressway again, a specific target in mind. Stopping once again at a shabby motel, although this time at a somewhat reasonable hour, he lay on top of the covers of the bed, his hands resting behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

If it hadn't been for Freddie, Remy would have been there with the X-Men and students to help prevent the attack that most obviously occurred on the grounds. He would have suffered their same fate, and while he might not have liked it, it would have felt more right than being free while everyone else was God knew where. Remy now had to concentrate on finding his mutant friends while staying on the outside so that he wasn't caught with them. Once they were found, he'd devise a way to get them out. He was an escape artist; he could do such a thing, even with a whole mass of scared children. He had to convince himself that everything would be alright.

The following morning Remy had his bike parked in a nondescript parking lot bordering the capital of the country. Another long stroll took him to the center of the city, and it was there that he started his work. Over the next week he took care to figure out who it was that was in charge of taking care of the so-called mutant problem, and after finding them, he tailed them. None of them appeared to be the reason behind the X-Men's disappearance, but he continued to dig, using his lifelong thieving skills to his advantage. Eventually his search was redirected to a completely different city, but that turned out to be slightly safer than the nation's capital.

A month passed of hard work, and while frustration was building up inside of Remy, he refused to acknowledge it. The case of the X-Men was an isolated one, as far as he could tell, and it was a small operation. Somehow the government had gotten smart in the way that they were hiding it, and no matter how often Remy was able to hack into their computers, he was discovering that it was harder and harder to find the people he cared for.

Eventually, Remy got a breakthrough. After heading off to another, even smaller city, he was able to discover where all of the X-Men had been taken to, right down to its exact location. Feeling lighter than he had been the past month, he made his way to the coordinates to take a look around. What he saw was a high security prison, without any other way to describe it. Ignoring all precautionary warnings his head was screaming at him, he approached the building as best as he could without actually getting inside. His hope was that he wouldn't raise alarm in the least bit, but that was soon thwarted when a small vehicle turned around the corner to meet up with him.

"You're too close to the—" The man at the wheel let his jaw hang slack as he got a good look at Gambit.

"Oh, so ya know who I am?" Remy inquired, throwing another happy face over top what he was feeling. "Den ya should know not t' bother me, ney?"

"Wrong, son," the man replied, getting out of the vehicle and pulling a gun from a holster on his hip. Remy stared at it for a moment before throwing a very unafraid look at the man. "We know that we shouldn't let you out of our grips this time."

"Dis time? Aw … you were at da mansion? Jus' had t' make complete fools outta—" Remy's taunting sentence was cut off at a strangled cry. Squeezing his eyes shut, he feel on to his knees as an electric shock coursed through his body. Surprisingly enough, he didn't actually fall to the ground and writhe like everyone always sees in the movies. Instead, to be finished off, the officer he had been chatting with stuck a needle into his neck, which brought quick darkness. Remy was unconscious before his head hit the dirt.


	2. Chapter 2

Even though he had fallen quite quickly and quietly into the drug induced sleep, it wasn't the same way climbing out of it. At first he had the impression that he was back in the mansion, waking up on his bed to start the new day to Scott's orders as field leader as the X-Men. The guy really did think too highly of himself. But when he tried lifting his head, his eyes already open, black spots swam into his vision, causing him to set his head abruptly back in to the surface that he was lying upon. Unfortunately, the surface turned out to be something other than a pillow. Remy gritted his teeth lightly when he caused a whole new headache upon slamming his head down on to a metal table-like surface. Waiting another minute, he tried lifting his head again. Other than the dull throbbing at the base of his skull where he had slammed it against the table, he didn't feel any more pain and the room no longer danced around in his vision.

Shifting over to the side a little to make himself more comfortable, he soon discovered that the surface wasn't much larger than him, and he ended up rolling right over the side of it. As he toppled over, he tried holding out his hands to break his fall against the ground, but cuffs restricted movement of his hands. As he hit the hard floor he let out a grunt, the hand cuffs cutting sharply into his wrists, but even partially awake he refused to show that it had caused him too much pain. His teeth clenched together and his eyes narrowed, he lifted up his head to look around the room that he was placed inside. He was lying flat on his stomach, his legs splayed out behind him and his coat cover his back in a lump, but even with the difficult position he didn't want to chance moving around too much in case he mysteriously fell again.

The room had bare, cement block walls with the stainless steel table erected right in the middle. Thick canvas straps hung down from the bottom of the table, which meant that it was supposed to keep prisoners in place. Lucky for Remy that they hadn't strapped him in, otherwise his wrists would be fine. A steel door held Remy firmly inside the room, as it was the only exit; windows didn't exist at all. When Remy craned his neck all the way up to get a look at the ceiling, he was dismayed to discover that it appeared to be made out of solid cement with only a small ventilation duct hardly small enough for Remy's hand to fit inside.

"Dey certainly t'ought o' everyt'in'," Remy commented, testing his voice. He was happy to discover that it worked without any added emotion he wasn't bargaining for. Pushing himself up from his elbows to a position much like a push-up position, Remy climbed almost gracefully to his feet, despite the restrictions of the hand cuffs. Once he was standing, he had to lean against the table for a moment before he regained his complete balance, but once he had it he quickly strode over to the door. Just to make sure that the people had, in fact, thought of everything, he experimentally tried to open the door to no avail. It was locked.

Leaning over to study the lock, Remy figured that he could pick the lock to get out of the room, but as he was looking it over, it swung open, almost hitting Remy smack in the face. Staggering backwards out of surprise, though somehow appearing nonchalant about the whole thing, Remy watched as the handle slammed into the wall, creating a crunching noise. Two buff men stepped into the room after the door had stopped moving. One stood sentry in the opening, expecting Remy to make a break for it, while the other grabbed Remy roughly by an arm. "Hey! I was gonna compliment you on your dramatic entrance, but der ain't no reason for rough handlin'! I'm a delicate guy!"

The only reply Remy received was a hard smack upside the head, as if they were telling him to shut up. The only problem was that the Cajun didn't know the meaning of the phrase, or any hints toward it. "Excusez-moi!" Remy shouted, the headache coming back full-fledged after the smack. "What did I jus' say? You deaf?" This time Remy was shoved forward with muscled force, right past the second guy, whom had stepped aside. Turning around to send a scowl their way, he was knocked off-balance by another push. Landing roughly on his arm, Remy let out another small groan as new pain snaked up to his shoulder.

"Get up," the guard that had been shoving around demanded. Remy shifted on to his better arm instead, his hair falling in curtains around his face. Before he was even aware that the man was moving, he felt the toe of his boot connect with the side of his ribs. Moving his cuffed hands up to the place, Remy shook the hair from his face to snarl up at the guard. Menacing words would have to wait, however, as he was pulled up by the back of his coat and pushed onward once more. His feet working to keep himself from falling flat on his face again, Remy finally did exactly as he was told until the back of his coat was yanked again to stop him from moving forward.

"Can't you jus' use your words?" Remy asked, and to his surprise, he actually did get a response.

"Get in," the first guard ordered, shoving Remy inside. This time his push wasn't as violent as the ones before, and instead of trying to regain his balance, he backed up inside without a fight.

"Sure, sure," Remy said. "Still, no need t' get rough."

Four words must have been the one guard's limit, because he once again ignored the Cajun, except this time instead of shoving him further, he managed to slam the door in his face. The only problem with the slamming it shut was that it was a sliding door, and not one manually opened and closed, either. "Well," Remy commented, then began to look around. "Now where'd I get myself inta?"

The walls, ceiling, and floor were all a washed white. Upon touch, Remy could feel that the walls, at least, were no walk in the park if he wished to get through them. Before he could study the room any further, though, he realized that he wasn't alone.

"Well, that's odd," a gruff voice observed from the opposite side of the room. If Remy had been paying attention, he would have heard his feet spin on the ground as soon as Remy was pushed inside of the door.

Turning around slowly, Remy let his eyes fall on the other man inside the room, despite the fact that he already knew the face that went with the voice. His wild hair was the same, with the untamed sideburns and unique hairstyle. His clothes were rather disheveled, as if he'd been through hell and back during the month that Remy had been looking for his teammates. But the most obvious thing about his outlook was that he had a spectacular set of handcuffs on him. They covered his whole hand, most likely to prevent him from using his claws, though Remy wasn't sure about how that would work out.

"I get da feelin' dat dey—whoever dey are—want us t' get t' know each other a li'l more, even though we've known each other long enough." Although Remy made sure not to show it on his face, he was thinking hard, trying to figure out why the guards would do such a thing as throw them in the same room. While they didn't get along some of the time, if they worked together, Remy knew that they'd make a kick-ass team. He briefly wondered if they hoped that the two of them would duke it out and severely hurt one another, but it was as quickly dismissed as it was brought up.

Remy's wandering thoughts were put to an abrupt stop when Wolverine reacted to his statement. "Seems to be the case," he grunted. He was leaning against one of the walls, his hands bound in front of him. Remy kept his silence as well, continuing to take in the room, just as Logan was doing, or so it appeared. A frown began to form on Remy's lips when he didn't immediately see an easy way out, but it quickly disappeared when Remy realized that he was making it. His attention was again brought away from himself as Wolverine began to shift, first moving his wrists around in the exotic cuffs that kept his claws at bay, and then down the wall that he had been leaning upon. Gradually he made it to a sitting position, his hands resting on his knees.

While Logan remained silent, Remy upheld a comfortable air despite their position. He stood still for a moment until he walked around the perimeter of the room, lightly dragging his finger along the wall. To any onlooker it appeared as if he wasn't doing anything productive, and they would most certainly be correct. It wasn't helping the two mutants in the room accomplish anything, but while he was doing it, it seemed like he was.

"How long you been cooped up in here?" he asked, stopping when he reached the place where Wolverine was sitting on the floor. For all Remy knew, Logan might not have been caught up in the main attack, if that was what really happened. Even after a little over a month of searching, Remy hadn't figured out the true nature of the whole thing.

Leaning his shoulder against the wall, Remy crossed his arms and feet in a nonchalant fashion. Pretending to look off into space while Logan continued his silence before replying, he took another look around the room, but still found nothing that would help the pair of them out. The door was solid steel, just like the one in the chamber Remy had woken up in, and wouldn't permit them a way of exit from this side of it.

"I dunno," Wolverine replied, the o trailing off into silence. "Couple of months, I guess." Which meant that he probably had been here within the same amount of time as the rest of the X-Men. Because if the X-Men weren't here, then where could they have gone?

Even though Remy was keeping a calm face and attitude, the longer they were in the room, the twitchier Logan got. His eyes moved from Remy's face, to the door, around the walls, and up to the ceiling. Moving around again, they eventually settled on to the door, though Remy didn't have an explanation as to why; he knew that they couldn't get out that way.

Logan shifted his hands on his knees, and while it wasn't much of a movement, Remy saw a thin line of blood begin to form at the edges. Knowing that Logan had a healing factor made him worry less about it until it began to stream out a little harder, not appearing to heal at all. He didn't comment about it, though, keeping his observations to himself.

"Keep talkin' an' settle down, mon ami," Remy advised, though was fairly certain that his words would be left unheeded, "else ya gonna make yaself crazier den ya already are."

Wolverine let out a little snort at the last part of the comment, but took his sweet time in replying. "I'll settle down when I get these flamin' things off," he remarked in a growl.

"Claws won't go t'rough dem t'ings?" Remy asked. He probably didn't need Wolverine's answer to confirm his suspicions, but it was worth a try anyway. Having a conversation and some facts from Logan to back up his guesses was better than nothing at all.

As a reply, Wolverine lifted up his hands so that Remy could see them clearly for the first time. Sure, he'd caught glimpses every now and again, but now he got to see a full range view. Remy shrugged at the sight, figuring that unless they were adamantium they wouldn't cause a problem. Apparently they had to have been. "I wouldn't still be here if I could," he eventually said. He had the habit of doing action first, and then speaking, but Remy was used to it, even if it was beginning to bug him in the room.

He leaned his head back on the wall, resting his cuffed hands back on his knees. His eyes continued to trail around the room, desperately trying to find an exit, although Remy wasn't sure why it needed to be so prompt. Crossing his own arms as best as he could with the cuffs around his wrists, Remy looked around as well to appear productive without actually doing any heavy brain work.

"What's wrong with this picture?" Logan suddenly spoke up, his voice approaching a primal growl.

Remy's eyes darted back toward him, his face passive. "Quoi?"he asked, looking around at the room once again, except in a more critical light to try and catch what Logan was seeing. "I don' see not'in'."

"They put the two of us in here with no guards—"

"I knew dat."

"—no cameras—"

"Da place riddled wit' cameras or somet'in'?"

"—just those holes in the ceilin'," Logan finished with a sideways glance at Remy. While he had been speaking, he rose to his feet so that their height difference wasn't as dramatic. Logan nodded upwards at his last words, and then pushed past Remy towards the door as if it was going to suddenly open for the pair of them.

Remy craned his neck to the area where Logan had gestured, his lips rising in a small snarl when he finally caught on to what Logan had been hinting at. "Dat don't sound so promisin'," he pointed out. His eyes lingered on each of the holes as he tried to figure out the reason behind their existence. The only two things he could come up with were so that the guards could either gas the pair of them or to keep air circulating. "What d'a s'pose dey're for?"

"I dunno. I can think of a few things," Logan grunted back. Remy tossed him an exasperated look for the lack of usable information, but instead of finding Wolverine looking back at him, he was still looking at the door. Before Remy could say anything else, Logan suddenly dashed forward and slammed straight into the door like some kind of wild animal. The door must have hurt Logan more than he had hurt it, because he pressed his forehead against the cool metal and didn't move again.

Stepping forward, hiding the taunting smile that threatened to burst out, Remy crossed the room to lean against the wall right beside the door. This allowed him to get a better look at Logan's face, but it was also a teasing distance between the two of them. "Now dat di'n't look too smart," he smirked, figuring that he'd anger Wolverine even more. But if the man was trying to get out, maybe ticking him off a little wouldn't be such a bad idea, especially if Gambit could convince him to attack the room instead of him. "Le's jus' see what dey want wit' us, d'accord?"

Logan appeared as if he hadn't heard Remy at all. Pushing himself away from the wall again with a grunt to turn around and slam his back into the same place. Shaking his head, Remy still found the behavior weird, even for Wolverine. Logan glanced at the door again, an almost thoughtful expression on his face, before abandoning it completely, striding into the middle of the room. Raising a brow, Remy waited to see what show Logan would have next.

"Wait …" he mumbled, looking back up at the holes in the ceiling.

"I ain't movin'."

Once again Logan ignored him as his head swung back and forth, up and down as if trying to figure something really complicated out. "East. That means … crap." For the first time in a few minutes, his eyes settled on Remy again, though he didn't say anything else.

"East? What does east have t' do wit' anyt'in'?" Remy asked skeptically. He was beginning to think that Logan was losing his marbles as well. First it was Freddie and now Logan. The situation appeared to be similar.

To his surprise, Logan did answer Remy's question, though he could see the tension increase around the man. Something was going to snap soon, he was sure. "See those holes?" Logan repeated, and Remy answered with a scowl. Of course he had. "If I'm right, they're for a waterin' system. Which means … they're gonna flood the room." Without missing a heartbeat, Logan prepared to launch himself at the door again, and Remy certainly wasn't going to get in his way. Except when Remy sidestepped the metal door to give Logan plenty of room, he hesitated despite the fact that he was obviously becoming antsy.

"Flood da room?" Remy asked. "I jus' got here an' dey want t' kill me?" His eyebrows pulled together at the thought, and he suddenly felt the drive that Wolverine was feeling. Glancing toward the holes again with a new light, he shuffled even more against the wall, but this time ended up staggering into a wall, hitting his already bruised shoulder against the hard surface. "We need t' get out," he pointed out to himself, instinctively moving his hand to his pocket. For some reason his not quite full deck of cards was still inside the pocket, although his staff had gone missing. Pulling out a single card, he rolled it around his knuckles, but discovered that his powers were missing. He had been suspecting it before, but now it was confirmed, and it frightened him further.

Looking up at Wolverine again, he tried not to let his panic show through his voice as he asked, "You sure dose claws can't go t'rough dem cuffs?"

"You think I'd still be here if I could?" Logan retorted.

Remy shrugged, struggling to stay nonchalant. "Ya never know, mon ami." Now trying to find something to keep busy, he played a little more with the card in his hand before stuffing it back inside the pocket with the rest of its friends.

A gurgling noise faintly reached Remy's ears from above. As it grew louder, Remy's curiosity—despite his fear of being drowned in the room—took over and he tilted his head up to get a look at the ceiling. As soon as he did so, freezing cold water splashed heavily on to his face. Surprised, Remy almost slipped as he sidestepped the stream, coughing and sputtering the get the water out of his mouth. Once it was out he shook his head to get the cold water from his hair to prevent it from dripping down his back and neck, and then wiped the amount around his eyes to clear them.

"Well, we don't got long anymore," Remy rasped, still managing to point out the obvious. He never said that he was bad at it.

Logan once again kept silent, though it was for a different reason for now. When Remy looked over to him, trying to ignore the water riding up his ankles, he saw a face painted with pain. He had his one leg up so that he could put his foot on the small chain between the oversized cuffs. His back arched, he stomped on the chain as hard as he could, hoping to break it. A scream of pain filled the dramatic, water-filled room, and Logan fell down to his knees. All Remy could do was cringe at the animal-like cry. Even if he wanted, Remy wouldn't be able to aide Logan so that the pain would subside, and he didn't have his powers or any place to use his skills to bust the pair of them out.

The cuffs, however, were gone, and that appeared to be enough for the animal side of Wolverine. Even though he was breeding freely, his skin roughly ripped at the wrist and left in tatters around the hand, he rose to his feet with heavy breathing. A metallic SNIKT could be heard over the thundering water as his claws retracted. Pushing his way through the water that happened to now be at their waists, he made it to the door. With a swipe of his arm, his claws sunk into the metal as if they were hot knives through butter.

Remy tried to push his way through the water to make it by his side, though he was unsure as to what he could do, but before he could make it more than a step, the water resistance quickly put a halt to his advancement. Remy realized that he was going down in the water, but with boots on as well as hand cuffs, it took him a while to struggle back to the surface. His head broke through; he gasped for air, and then once again shook the water from his hair as he managed to get to his feet again.

During the time he spent fooling around in the water, Wolverine had clawed his way completely through the door, creating a hole large enough for the two of them to step through. The water that continued to spill into the room swept towards the door, exiting in a waterfall and into the plain hallway on the other side of the door.

"Ya need an invitation?" Logan shouted at Gambit, climbing through the hole to the relatively dry space.

Unable to use his throat properly, Remy shook his head at the question. Carefully making his way over, minding the water, he eventually clambered out after Logan. Despite himself and the pain in his neck, he let out a laugh when his brain caught up. The two of them were safe!

Logan appeared as if he wanted to make a move on again, though Remy wasn't yet up to it. Holding up a hand, he took in a breath, then asked, "Y'know, now ya got your claws, couldn't ya jus' cut t'rough dese collars?" His struggles in the water had led to his discovery about his own, and he hadn't paid attention the smooth, gray circular device around Wolverine's neck until that discovery. If his power of assumption was correct, it was that that suppressed their powers.

"I could try," Logan replied, flicking his eyes to Gambit's collar. "Would be a great test t' see what kinda safety features these things have." If Logan did cut through Remy's collar, it would be a test, and he would have no way of knowing if he would live through the ordeal, in other words.

While Remy used the wall to keep his shaky feet steady, Wolverine slid down the wall again, fingering his injuries. Remy wrinkled his nose at the gory sight, but then looked away to study the hallways a little better than he had before when he was being pushed down it from the first room to the water room.

He didn't see any of the cameras that Logan had mentioned upon finding the oddities in the room. Instead, dim lights were spread evenly along the walls, hardly casting enough light to see by. Dark and gloomy shadows haunted most of the places, although where Logan and Remy were standing was rather bright. The light given off from the fixtures was reflecting off of the pouring water, making the whole place bright from all around.

"Any ideas on how t' get outta here, mon ami?" Remy asked after a while, no longer feeling the clawing pain in his throat thanks to his unwilling mouthful of water, not to mention the droplets that took residence in his lungs when he was trying to breathe.

When Remy had been taken into the prison—at least he assumed it was a prison given the surroundings—he had been unconscious and unable to map the route that was taken to get inside.

"How's about take the door?" Logan replied. Remy threw him an almost disapproving look at such a lame reply, but his features soften when he realized that Logan's eyes were a bit unfocused and most likely a little out of it.

Feeling a little steadier, Remy lifted Logan's arm over his shoulder and awkwardly held on to that hand, as he couldn't do much else with the hand cuffs. Fully expecting a heavy weight, he braced himself as he lifted the midget to his feet, gritting his teeth at the effort. He looked up and down the hallway to figure out the better way to go and ended up deciding on heading the opposition direction of the room he had been pulled from. Taking a couple steps, he made sure that Logan would be pulled along at the very least.

"Leave me." Logan's voice was firm on this one, meaning that his lucid moment from before wasn't affecting his decision. Even so, Remy couldn't leave his teammate behind like that.

"I ain't leavin' ya," Remy grunted, throwing a stubborn look at the man so that he could see it clearly. "If we don' get out, so be it. I ain't leavin' ya t' take all da blame, mon ami." This Remy meant, and he was just as unmoving about his decision. Plus, he was sure that Logan didn't have much to argue his point and stay at the broken door, since Remy already had him supported.

"We … won't make it," Logan pointed out, still trying to play the hero. The whole reason Remy had found the place so was that he could help his teammates. Leaving Logan behind would only be detrimental to his cause.

"So I see, but I ain't leavin' you behind," Remy scowled. "Got it?"

Logan didn't have a reply. Instead, his feet actually started working, and with his help, the two of them made it fairly far before Logan broke down again. Without his healing factor, he could only take so much damage and pain. Remy's arms will still around him to keep him supported, but after his feet collapsed, Remy almost fell down with him. Dragging him to a wall for support, Remy released the man and let out a sigh.

A guard that looked much more like a soldier then rounded the corner, and his surprise was evident on his face even from a distance. "Hey!" the man shouted dumbly, fumbling for his gun. Unfortunately for him, he appeared to have a little problem with getting it out of the holster.

Tearing his gaze away from his injured companion, Remy quickly took in the situation. Ignoring the bumbling man for the moment, Remy shook his cuffed hands in Logan's face, hoping that the sound would grab his attention. "Get me outta dese," he demanded lowly, throwing a nervous glance at the guard. He still hadn't managed to release his gun, and that was where all of his attention was directed, but once he had it out the two mutants would be sitting ducks. "Or neither o' us are gonna live."

With the cue of Remy's voice, Logan's eyes rolled open again. Despite the obvious concentration on his face, he lifted up one of his hands, a single claw shooting out and slicing through the chain. His hands free, Remy turned his complete attention on the lone guard. As if subconsciously knowing that the mutants no longer had a struggle of their own, he looked up from his gun, horror showing through his face. Remy shouted and quickly covered the distance between them, but he didn't make it in time to stop the guard from calling for backup. "Dat wasn't very nice o' ya," Remy commented. The man visibly jumped when he saw how close Gambit was, but he didn't have a chance as Remy quickly took care of him.

Without him to center his attention on, Remy didn't know what to do. He couldn't carry Logan any further, and from the looks of it, he had fallen unconscious. His body was slumped heavily against the wall, almost falling over so that he was lying on the cold floor. Remy took a step forward to figure something out anyway, but before he had gotten far, a whole horde of guards rounded the corner with their guns already pulled.

"Put your hands up!" a voice barked from within the crowd. Knowing his limits, Remy did as he was asked and stepped a couple steps back so that he was halfway between them and Logan.

The move had somehow been taken offensive, and a shot was fire, though it went wild. Remy cringed at the sound, no longer having his enhanced agility to save him from gunfire, and yet again useless in the situation. Logan, on the other hand, had snapped to attention and risen to his feet, the claws sliding out of their sheathes. Stepping aside so that Wolverine wouldn't attack him, he quickly glimpsed the crazed look on his face as he ran straight into the crowd. Most of them didn't know what to do as the adamantium sliced through their bodies.

Shrugging slightly, Remy launched himself into the mob, managing to take a few guards of his own before another shot rang out, almost deafening at such a close range. "Wolverine!" he shouted. Soon after the second bullet had been released, Wolverine fell heavily to the floor, no fight left in him. He was lifted by his arms by two guards and dragged off. Just before he was dragged out of sight, he managed to catch Remy's eyes, though whatever he was trying to communicate was lost on Remy.

In his distraction, Remy had slowed his fighting. Outnumbered by extreme odds, Remy didn't have a chance. He felt a needle slide into his neck, much like the situation on the outside of the prison, and he was unconscious before he even hit the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

Remy knew better than to think that he was at some friendly place when he woke up this time. Getting his sluggish brain into gear again was just as hard as the first time, but he made sure that he didn't shift to the side so that he could fall over himself like he had earlier. He was situated on his back, his arms lying peacefully by his sides. His feet were sitting next to each other at the same level as his head, which meant that he was lying down. The surface that he was lying on was hard and lumpy, but it was warm. Remy expected the air to be as silent as the first room that he had woken up in, but once he came to enough he could hear the beeping of machinery in the background. It beeped rhythmically and softly, in tune to a heartbeat.

Braving the sights of the room, Remy cracked his eyes open, blinking them completely open when he saw nothing particularly offensive. The walls were white brick with flakes of white paint chipping off every now and again. The ceiling was solid with a tiny air vent to keep air circulating. As soon as Remy was positive that he wouldn't fall out of the small hospital-type bed, he peered over the edge and saw that the floor was made out of smooth cement. When he lifted his gaze again, he saw another bed identical to his own on the other side of the small room. On top of it was Logan, connected to so many machines, Remy wasn't sure how to tell tubes apart from his teammate.

As Remy observed his friend's predicament, things started to go downhill for the runt. The machines hooked up to him began beeping with more ferocity as well as loudness. Remy wrinkled his nose as the obtrusive noise assaulted his ears. Guards were stationed at the door, though on the hallway side, and soon let in doctors to tend to Wolverine. Remy feigned sleep while they hustled about, talking in urgent voices and scuttling around with loud footsteps. Remy tried to make out what they were saying, but none of the language that they used was very familiar to the Cajun, despite the fact that they were speaking in plain English. While Remy wanted to peek over to get a gist of what was going on, he wasn't sure what would happen to him once the doctors figured out that he was awake. He had already proved that he was a dangerous man, but he didn't think that he was tied down at all. It made things easier for him, but it also had to mean that someone had a backup plan.

Just as suddenly as the machines started their frantic beeping, all of the sounds were drowned out by a long, flat beep: flat line. Remy didn't know a whole lot about hospitals, since he tended to stay away from them as much as he possibly could, he did know that Logan was technically dead. How long he would stay technically dead was the question, because it all depended on when the doctors would take off his collar to allow him to heal. But if their goal was to kill the pair of them off in the first place, Remy wondered why they would allow him to live anyway.

The voices from the various doctors retreated into the hallway, followed by the quiet click of the heavy door being closed. Logan's heart monitor still announced his death, which meant that he wasn't disconnected. Remy lifted his head from the flat linen covered object called a pillow and glanced over at Logan, but didn't yet dare to move. As he was watching, the collar blinked a green color, as well as give off a small beep, though Remy couldn't guess what it meant. He continued to watch, as if he knew there would be a climax to the whole situation, but nothing happened.

Suddenly Logan let out a loud gasp, shooting to a sitting position and coughing fiercely. Remy jumped at his sudden movement, but he didn't think Logan had seen him do it, as he was waking up from a supposed sleep of eternity. The small man tried to lift his hands to his face, but instead touched metal Wolverine cuffs to his nose. He stared at his hands for a moment before falling back on his bed with a slight crashing noise. Remy half expected the bed to fall out from underneath him with his adamantium skeleton adding to his weight and all.

Since Wolverine hadn't tried starting a conversation yet, mostly due to the fact that he was unaware that Remy was sharing a room with him, Remy decided he would try and test his voice. First he swallowed to wet his throat, though it didn't help much, Remy opened his mouth to speak. "How …" Remy let out his own cough as his throat hurt much more than he thought it would. His voice was scratchy and too dry. "You okay?" he managed to choke out, cutting the unneeded words from the short sentence.

Logan's eyes shot over to Remy's bed, taking in his appearance. From the look on his face, Remy didn't think that he looked too good. "Yeah, I'm good," he replied without a hint of dry, scratchy throat. He still had the slight growl in his voice, but that was a typical thing for him. His name was Wolverine, after all. Pushing himself up in a sitting position again, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his eyes still on Gambit. "You look like shit."

"T'anks," Remy grumbled, rolling his eyes. As if he couldn't tell anyway. He was glad that he hadn't tried moving yet, because that really would reveal the extent of whatever injuries he had picked up. He knew for sure that he had a bruise on the ribs, since he could feel it with every breath he took, and he remembered picking up a bruise on his shoulder where he fell on it, but he was certain that that wasn't all that he could have received.

Unfortunately for the normally chatty Cajun, Logan wasn't going to say anything more, and he wasn't doing much physically, either, simply sitting on his bed. Deciding that lying around wasn't much of an option any longer, Remy pushed himself to the edge of the bed, intending to do the same. The bruise on his ribs protested at the movement, but over the nausea, Remy couldn't feel it. Experiencing a small bout of tunnel vision, he found himself falling on the floor, landing hard on his hands and knees. Sticking his fist over his mouth, he let the nausea fade as he got a hold over himself again. Looking up at Wolverine, he flashed him a smile, though nothing was returned.

"What your plan, eh?" Remy asked, his throat still hurting, but not quite as badly the more he used it. "'Cause I got not'in' right now." Mostly because he'd already taken his beating for the day, as well as survived a death trap. A man—even if the man were a mutant—could only take so much.

"For the moment … rest," Logan replied, looking down at Remy. His eyes flashed back to the new cuffs over his hands. "Make 'em think they won."

Remy nodded at Logan's flawless plan, leaning against the side of the bed, even though it offered him no comfort. "Dey haven't won?" he tested, wondering what Logan's response would be. He'd been in the prison much longer than Remy and had probably taken a lot more of their shit.

"We're alive, aren't we?" Logan raised his eyebrows, his eyes again on Remy.

"Now ya are," Remy muttered under his breath, glancing off in the direction of the door. It didn't offer any windows to see through, so instead cameras were situated in the corners to keep an eye on the prisoners. Remy stared them down, setting his jaw.

"Yes, they're watchin'," Logan said, stretching his cuffed hands over his head.

Remy sighed, but sat up a little straight. "Oui. Fig'red dey were. Makes it dat much harder t' get outta here, non?" He moved to pull himself to his feet, taking the ascent slowly so that he wouldn't fall over. Gripping the edge of the hospital bed so that his knuckles were white, he made sure that he was steady before slowly releasing. Once he was standing on his own, he looked around the room, this time using his different angle to take in even more. He was surprised when he found his coat folded up on a chair. Looking over at the silent Logan, he wondered if he should walk over and grab it.

Before Remy had the chance to decide, the door burst open, allowing guards to walk in past the ones at the doors. Remy jumped when the metal door smashed against the wall and quickly grabbed his coat before anyone could stop him. It turned out that they weren't so interested in Remy as they were interested in Logan. They surrounded the man and passively walked him to the door, but before they could get through, Logan sidestepped and smashed a man between his body and the wall. "Oops. Clumsy me," Logan quipped. His efforts were useless, as he was kicked out the door.

More guards came into the room, this time looking at Remy. "What?" Remy asked, holding up his hands and hoping that the movement wouldn't disrupt his already tippy balance. Two of the guards seized Remy's arms in their hands to drag him out into the hallway after Logan. Remy allowed them to drag him along, since he didn't have the energy to fight them, though he wouldn't have minded if they had used kinder words so that he would have followed them. The people in the prison were a little too pushy for their own good.

After a couple hallways, Logan and Remy's guards separated the two. Remy was dragged down dim hallways until the trio reached cell doors. Looking up and around with alert eyes, Remy took in the condition of the prisoners behind the bars. None of the people inside looked up at the marching footsteps, and some of them shied away to the far wall. Frowning at this, Remy wasn't so sure how he would cope in such a place. Thinking positively would help, but it appeared as if nothing around the place would stimulate such thoughts.

They turned down another hallway with jail cells on each side. One of the guards released Remy's arm, causing him to stagger when the support was suddenly taken away, but he wasn't dumped onto his face. The guard that had broken away pulled out a single key card and slid it through a small box beside the door. A green light shone on the box, allowing the guard to pull aside the door so that the one supporting Remy could shove him inside. "Hey!" Remy shouted. Reaching out to keep his balance, Remy caught the wall before he fell. With lightning quick reflexes, the guard that had opened the door quickly slammed it shut behind the mutant before he even had a chance to turn around. Once Remy had, the pair of them were gone.

"Nice welcomin' committee," Remy grumbled, looking around at his new cell. It was dark, but not much darker than the hallways outside. Barred light revealed a cot built into the wall as well as the compact toilet/sink contraptions, but nothing else was around to furnish the small cell. Using the wall as support, Remy made it over to the cot, allowing his legs to give out as he sat down. Letting out a sigh, he leaned his head against the cool brick wall. For some reason he still had his things, and that was the only comfort he currently had. How long before that was taken away?


	4. Chapter 4

Even after a week inside the prison, Remy couldn't get over the food the prisoners were expected to eat. The first time he had filed into the mess hall, as compliant as ever, he had gotten in line just as all the other mutants had. Most of them had bowed heads so as not to make eye contact, and while Remy didn't take his act that far, he remembered to relax his shoulders into a more slumped position. Following the other prisoners in a neat line, Remy grabbed his plate when it was his turn at the counter, turning around to look around the room. He was searching for a table with perhaps a pretty lady or two, or if all else failed, his own table, so he took his time in looking around. He got a couple dirty looks from some of the prisoners he walked by, and he made a mental note to keep away from them to keep his profile low, but he didn't find anyone remotely inviting. He didn't even see anyone from the mansion. Sighing, he eventually took his own table, taking his first good look at the stuff they considered food.

"We s'posed t' eat dis?" he asked out loud, incredulous. The spoon he was given to eat the slop stuck vertically in the air, secure from any sudden jarring. The food itself appeared to have some grayish color to it, and if the dullness of it wasn't enough, he couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be in the first place.

His posture portraying his decreased spirits, his elbow resting on the edge of the table, he pulled the spoon from the slop. It created a faint sucking noise as it was removed. Remy wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Nasty."

Sighing loudly, Remy stared at the food without any intentions of eating it. His stomach had been begging for food earlier, but upon discovering what was served in the prison, his appetite had quickly evaporated. Thankfully, his attention was diverted as someone new approached his table.

"How long ya been here?" a feminine voice inquired, the scraping sound of her tray reaching his ears as she set it down.

"Not long," Remy replied, looking up to take in the stranger's appearance. She, too, had a collar around her neck, but she wasn't showing a lot of skin. In fact, she didn't appear to be very noteworthy at all. "Dat always how ya start a conversation…?"

"That's really all there is to ask in a place like this," she answered harshly. "Normally the question is 'what are you in for,' but I don't think that applies here." She made a face as she sat down in a chair, taking care to put space between her and Remy.

Remy couldn't help but smile at her pessimism. He was glad that he was strong enough to not give in to those persistent thoughts, even though they were always on his mind. "Da world has too many muties for da human's likings," he scowled, almost playfully. He leaned backwards in his chair, resting his forearm on the back of it. His tone of voice didn't match his body language completely, but it was all for conversation's sake.

She didn't respond at that, instead gathering a heaping pile of the slop on to her own spoon and shoveling it in her mouth. Remy watched, bordering on repulsion, but also curiosity. How could she bring herself to eat such crap? Nodding his head to the food on her plate as if to point to it, he asked, "How you eatin' dis stuff, hey?" Leaning forward again, he grabbed his spoon again and made to scoop some of the slop away. "It can't possibly taste good."

An unnerving laugh escaped her lips, and Remy glanced back at her face, alarmed. "I eat it because I need to keep up my strength. When your body needs it that much, it's pretty easy to ignore the taste." She took another bite with gusto, looking back up at him once it was swallowed. "I'd eat it if I were you. You'll want your strength. They like 'fresh fish.'"

"Fresh fish, eh?" Remy replied, raising an eyebrow. He had heard the term before in television shows, but he found it weird for it to be applied to his life. "And if I ain't fresh fish? Dey leave me alone?" He was positive that that was not the case, but he might as well ask it anyway. She appeared to be friendly enough, and he should take advantage of that and worm as much information out of her as he could.

She didn't answer immediately, but swallowed another impossibly large bite as if to ward off his question. Once it was gone, however, she no longer had an excuse. She smiled sadly and shook her head. "Believe me, you want to be fresh fish," she said firmly. "That's when they do the physical stuff. Once you're worn down, then the scalpels come out."

Remy blinked, horrified. He expected something completely different from that. Apparently a mutant prison was very unlike the ones televised, and he hadn't had much experience of prisons in his own life. "Fresh fish does sound like a good idea, at least over da worn out …" he commented needlessly, looking back toward his food to avoid looking at her. He tried picking up his spoon again, shoveling the glop onto it, but couldn't yet bring himself to eat it.

"So what was your power?" she asked out of the blue, taking his mind off of the food once again.

He looked back up at her, screwing up his expression so that she couldn't read it. "Was, chere? Da power's still der, jus' dis stupid collar don't let me use it, dat's all. Once it comes off, I make t'ings go boom." He grinned thoughtfully. "Da bigger da object, da bigger da boom." His eyes refocused on her. "An' what was your power?"

"I'm a teleporter," she explained simply. A slight shrug to the shoulders suggested that it wasn't a big deal. "If I was smart when my powers manifested, I would've teleported out of this hellhole the first chance I got. Back then, their collars were a lot easier to pick, and I spent a lot of my time with cuffs a lot like Logan's to keep me from picking the lock on the collar. Now a days they have more advanced technology, making it harder for me to get out of here."

Remy nodded, the gears running in circles in his head. He picked up a spoonful of food again and actually forced it into his mouth before he could stop himself, but ended up choking it down. Only now was he starting to understand the whole picture; the reasons as to why all of the prisoners were so badly beaten down. It wasn't just one or two things that go under their skin, it was everything about this place.

The rest of the meal continued on in silence as Remy continued to force the food down his throat. The lady across from him didn't offer anything more to the conversation, not that Remy minded. Once he was done with the food, though sick to the stomach, he rose politely from his seat, bid her farewell, and left the area. He took a few random turns down the hallways, but eventually discovered that he was lost. So much for his wonderful navigation skills, acquired over his years as a thief. He thought he was going to be able to make it to his cell alone, but before he even had the chance, a commanding voice stopped him.

Turning around the face the guard, Remy put on his most innocent act. "Excusez-moi, monsieur," he said smoothly, "I seemed to have lost my way."

The guard grumbling rather darkly, and somehow knowing exactly where to go, he grabbed Remy roughly around the bicept and guided him to his cell, in which he was locked inside. After the mutant was safely inside, the guard appeared to have just disappeared. Sighing once again to himself, Remy strode over to his bed and plopped down on it, letting his feet hang over the edge. Not having much to do, he stared at his feet, allowing his brain to freely plot.

Before long, another disturbance jerked Remy to wakefulness. "I think you're going to do just nicely," a faintly British accent said just outside his cell. Removing his eyes from his feet, Remy looked her over. She was short—extremely short—and had raven black hair that fell down past her shoulders. She wasn't currently looking in at Remy, but was standing before his cell door and was gesturing to the very same guard that had guided Remy back. She wanted it open.

Watching with confused eyes, Remy saw as the guard opened the door for her, let her in, and then closed her in with the very possibly dangerous mutant inside. Remy wasn't sure of what to think about it. "Der somet'in' you want, chere?" he inquired, deciding to be polite about it. Even so, he unconsciously crossed his arms in front of him, rising to his feet. He was a good foot taller than her.

"Is there something that I want…" she repeated with a tantalizing voice. Her gaze washed over Remy's body, and she wasn't being discreet about it. As she studied him, he saw her tongue come out and touch the corner of her mouth. Whatever she really did want, he didn't learn right away.

"That doesn't sound like a real French accent to me," she commented. "That French-Canadian, or from that place … oh, what was it—" she broke off and hummed quietly to herself for a moment "—New Orleans. That's supposed to have a bastardization of French, doesn't it?"

Remy's confusion deepened at her conversational outburst, but he didn't let it show. In fact, he didn't let his guard down at all. There was something about her that made him uneasy. He didn't understand why the guard would allow a short, defenseless woman in with Remy when he had already proven that he was a dangerous mutant. But that wasn't all. She also composed herself like she had nothing to fear from the Cajun, and that she was used to being top dog. He didn't know the reasons as to why she could think of herself that way, and he probably wouldn't find out very soon, but he did know that he had to be wary about her.

There was also something else about her that made her very alluring, but in a dangerous way. Unfortunately, Remy already had a past riddled with those very types of women.

He didn't answer straight away after her little self-rant. Something about her questioning and quick conclusion led him to believe that she didn't even need to think about the origin of his accent, as she already knew. Either she was well traveled, or she had done her research. "New Orleans, oui," he answered curtly, but didn't say anything else. He didn't want to denounce his own culture by agreeing wholeheartedly with her question.

"So you're a New Orleans boy, are you? How … I almost want to say romantic, but I don't think that's the right wording. Oh well, never mind," she remarked. A low chuckle escaped from her, but Remy wouldn't allow himself to react. She cut it off in the end, like she wanted to laugh even more, but was afraid of her self-image. Interesting.

"So what are ya supposed t' be, eh?" Remy asked bluntly. He couldn't let her carefree and obviously flirtatious nature get to him. That was the trap that Remy set for others, not the other way around.

This time she allowed a short period of silence after his question, but instead of letting him hang on her answer, she took a couple steps closer to him and further into his cell. "I guess you can call me your consolation prize," she told him. "After all, it can't be all that pleasant in being locked up in a small room with no one to give you company." Her eyes brushed over him suggestively, pushily.

Remy's defensive wall was beginning to crumble at her act, but he couldn't help himself. Women and thieving were always his weak spots. "Well, I sure ain't got no one but me here, chere. You don't seem to be too bad of a prize, chere." His brain was still trying to make him deny it, but her allure was making it harder and harder. A smirk spread across his face, his act forgotten. He still wasn't broken down; he was still the cocky man underneath.

"So what's your name, handsome?" she asked with another flutter of his eyelashes. A hand came up and brushed through her hair, her fingers curling around the tips of the strands before faintly coming down to trail over her chest. "I'm sure I can't be the first woman to call you that, can I?"

Remy's eyes watched her hands, but once the small show was over, they jerked back up to her face. He almost gave up his real name, but something held him back from doing that. Instead, he gave her his codename instead, as if that would put more distance between them. "You can call me Gambit, chere," he said with a wink. "An' maybe I been called dat b'fore, maybe not." The smirk remained on his face, but now it transferred to something a little more flirtatious.

"Gambit, is it?" the lady confirmed thoughtfully. "Is your name true to you? Are you really such a gamble that you would sacrifice someone else in your place?" Remy's mood darkened at the new light upon the subject, but he instantly covered it up. He didn't need this woman getting into his head any more than she already was. Remy's struggles were his own, and he didn't want to place the burden on anyone else's shoulders. He especially couldn't trust someone that had so much leverage with the guards.

"Depends on how I'm feelin'," Remy replied testily, watching her closely. He might have closed up a little to her at the mention of a back story to his code name, but he wasn't going to make it too obvious.

Fortunately for Remy, she jumped back to his other comment to her second question, and the tense moment quickly evaporated. "You clearly know that you're appealing to others," she remarked. She took a couple more steps to close the space between them. Their height difference was exaggerated even further, but that didn't help Remy denounce the danger behind her eyes. If anything, he felt a little threatened with her so close, yet so willing.

"And it wouldn't surprise me if you heard it from other men before as well," she continued. "I know there are a couple of guards that have taken a shine to you." Another light chuckle escaped from her. Her hand moved up to his upper arm, the fingers trailing down the skin as she glanced upwards at his face through her eyelashes. "Lucky for you, you got me instead."

The Cajun's risky mood came back at her move, and a small smirk reappeared on his lips. Everything she had just pointed out was completely true, but he was wondering how she would know about the guards. That meant not only was she able to get what she wanted from them, but she was definitely from around her. Even so, he continued to play her game.

"Show me how lucky," he demanded lightly, the smirk becoming more of a smile. He snaked his hand up between them to lift her chin, a very inviting move on his part. Perhaps he should have been more cautious of her, especially with all of the more rational thoughts running through the back of his mind, but this was too good of a chance to pass up. He was finally receiving some humane treatment from this prison. Then again, who was to expect such a thing?

As he guided her face upwards, he revealed a fond smile playing upon her lips. He didn't think much of it. "You want me to show you, do you?" The wording made it out as a question, but the tone and intonation of her voice suggested otherwise. "I do believe I can do that."

Remy was too caught up in the game to back out now. The hand that had been placed on his arm slid across his shoulder to the nape of his neck. The fingers intertwined themselves into his thick, long hair so as to pull him downwards. Even so, she had to push herself on her toes to make up for their height difference. As their lips met, Remy willingly kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer. She made a small noise of content through their kiss, but eventually pulled back, lips parted a little.

"Do you always happily kiss a girl when you don't know their name?" she asked, her voice purring. She pulled back slightly, breaking his grasp, but her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

"Maybe it be better I don't know your name, eh, chere?" he answered. While he normally tried his best to know everything about everyone, he was already gathering that this was one powerful woman. He didn't yet know how or why, but he figured that if he did know her name, that could put him in a dangerous position. Then again, it could also benefit him later on.

"You like the mysterious angle, then." She grabbed his hand with two of hers, wrapping her thing fingers around his stronger ones. "If that's what you wish, then so be it, I won't say a further word on the matter." She began leading him, walking backwards in order to do so. She eventually came up to his prison bed, on which she sat upon, patting the area next to herself. Remy took the place with a smirk, reaching around to grab her shoulder in order to kiss her again.

She complied. Turning her body into his own, she kissed him back, tugging lightly on his bottom lip with her teeth. "You're an eager one, aren't you?" she murmured seductively. "What do you want from me right now Gambit?" She pulled back enough to leave a small gap between their bodies.

Remy traced her face with his fingers, partially closing his eyes. "I t'ink you know what I want, chere," he said softly, huskily. His breathing had become a little uneven, though mostly out of anticipation, but his hands were still steady. His hands were always steady, because sometimes that meant life or death.

"I think that I just might," she replied, pulling closer to give him another kiss. Except this one had changed. It was rougher, more intense. But Remy had asked for it, and he returned it with as much fervor. His sense of touch felt as if it was on hyperdrive as she brought one arm around his neck, the other one to his cheek. He allowed himself to be guided on top of her as she fell backwards onto the bed.

He shouldn't have allowed himself to be sucked up into her trap, and normally his will would be stronger than this. But sometimes life intended a different path than what the beggar wished, so Remy would deal with consequences later.

The woman later pulled slowly away from Remy, giving him one last, lingering kiss. Remy murmured softly into it, satisfied for the moment. Once she had pulled away completely, pulling up the bed sheet to cover herself, he propped himself on his elbows to look her over again.

"I'm beginning to wonder who was whose consolation prize," she breathed with a small smile.

Remy smiled back, pulling himself into a better sitting position. "I'm still t'inkin' I quite lucky," he whispered. She had been good, even in the short time. In fact, putting everything he knew about her together, she was a little too good. A manipulator as skillful as her could explain the way the guards—or at least that one—were treating her.

"I think you're right; you're the lucky one," the lady chuckled. A quick look passed through her eyes, but she covered it up by giving him another kiss, though much more sugary than before. "The guard will be back here soon, and I'll have no choice but to leave," she told him suddenly, reaching for her discarded clothes. While she gathered them together, she didn't immediately get to dressing herself. "I would stay here if I could." An almost misplaced tone of sadness touched her voice, but her expression was right.

Remy frowned, though he didn't know why that would bother him so much. Did he really long for human contact that much, even if he was only in the prison for such a short time? If it took him long to get himself and his fellow teammates out, he could find himself in quite a bad position.

"Would you want to see me again if I manage to come back?" The question caught Remy off guard, and was even more so unbalanced when she reached over and gave his hand a light squeeze.

Pushing that aside, he rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. "Of course," he whispered, his eyes narrowing pleasurably. "I'd love t' see you again." The last sentence might have been an exaggeration, but he might as well plant his own seeds to later sow.

"Well, that would make it easier to come back, now wouldn't it?" She chuckled again, but eventually pulled away so that she could dress herself. She kept her back turned to him as she did so, keeping the air that she had some modesty.

He busied himself with pulling on his pants as she got ready to leave, but didn't bother with putting his plain tshirt on again. He tossed that aside to the head of the bed to put on later. As soon as he completed the move, she turned back to him to sit beside him, leaning against his side. "It is deceivingly comfortable right here," she commented, but offered no more explanation. Instead, she stroked her hand over his whiskered cheek. Her eyes glanced downwards over his bare chest, a contented smile displaying across her lips.

Footsteps, however, killed the moment. A guard rapped a wooden nightstick against the bars of the door, barking out, "Time's up!" Remy pulled away from her suddenly, almost as if she burned him, having almost forgotten the exact location and time.

"And that would be my cue to leave you," she commented softly. She rose to her feet, but didn't make to immediately leave the cell. "I'll try to come back as soon as I can." With that, she strode over to the door, waiting for it to be opened. As soon as it was pulled aside, she stepped through and out of view. Remy thought that he heard the guard talking to her, but the exact words were lost on him.

Gambit leaned backwards to rest his bare back on the cold, hard wall of the cell. He could still taste her, feel her soft curves against him, but he would soon have to leave the fantasy behind. This was a prison, after all, and he highly doubted he would be able to ever indulge himself ever again. Now he had to get his head out of the clouds and work on a plan. That first lady in the lunch room had given him an idea.


	5. Chapter 5

Handcuffs were a thing of the recent past. For some outrageous reason, the guards of the prison suddenly decided that Remy was no longer a threat, and let his hands free when escorting him anywhere. Once again, Remy didn't have any first-hand knowledge of a prison beyond this absurd mutant one, but he didn't think that such a thing was normal. Besides, he was a known dangerous mutant that used to run around with the X-Men, and he hadn't shown any signs of submission to the new rule. Perhaps it was laziness on the guards' part, thinking that the collars would save them from any belligerency, or maybe it was some twisted order from higher up, goading the prisoners to attack to better dispose of them. Either way, Remy didn't like the sound of it, even if it was only in his thought process.

The wrist binding wasn't the only thing that was odd. While the guards often pulled away mutants from other cells to take them to who knows where, they left Remy to a familiar and boring routine. They hardly paid attention to him at all, unless he went out of his way to be annoying. As soon as he had caught on to the fact that he could get away with some things, he began testing his limits. He never got a terrible punishment, but he did get some verbal abuse shouted at him. Yet all the guards did was let him go on his merry way.

Eventually, Remy decided to take it a step further. He'd been toeing the line earlier; walking purposely down the wrong corridors, creating a little trouble in the mess hall, asking the wrong questions were the least of the prison's problems from him. For the first time since his first day in the prison, he'd display his physical prowess and see how they dealt with it.

He leaned against the dirty wall of his cell, staring up at the ceiling. The bed was rather hard and lumpy when lying upon it, but now that he was sitting on it, the negative factors were exemplified. Everything was cold. The freezing texture of the brick dug into his back, even through the fabric of his clothes. The bed in which he had been sleeping in up until a couple minutes ago had already lost his transferred body heat. The floor, which seemed to be radiating chills, was tangible even from a distance. Remy had his feet pulled up onto the bed in order to preserve the heat inside his toes.

Despite knowing that moving would increase his chances at staying warm, Remy didn't have the will to lift himself off of the padded bench. He normally didn't have such a hard time staying warm before as a result of the insulation of his mutant powers and his costume. Now that both were stripped from him, all he had to wrap up inside was a worn down blanket. It wasn't even an appeasing color.

All Remy had to do to occupy himself was to stare at the wall and imagine shapes from their texture. He didn't dare delve into his thoughts, because if he tried such a thing, he was afraid that he wasn't going to get out of this situation, but wallow in self-pity. Granted, he did correct some of the evil he committed in his life by joining up with the X-Men, but he could never forgive himself. Never, not after being the driving reason behind a massacre or any of his other wrong-doings.

"Time for lunch," a gruff voice called from the other side of Remy's door.

Remy pulled his head up from his knees. "You talked," he marveled sarcastically.

"Get the fuck out. I ain't your babysitter."

"Is it warm out der? 'Cause I freezin' like a Thanksgivin' turkey in here. I know dis prison off da radar, but we're still …" Remy's next word paused on his lips. He was going to say that the prisoners were still human, but in the eyes of the general populous, that wasn't true at all.

"Yer animals, that's all you are. You all can just talk, that's it." Remy raised a brow at the faceless guard's argument. It almost sounded as if he was convincing himself that what he said was true. He could very possibly be brainwashed into thinking like the rest of Americans. People from other countries didn't care about mutants as much. Go figure. The one country that preaches freedom and equality is the one most blown out of proportion when facing those qualities.

"I can do more'n talk. 'S more den you can say," Remy retorted.

"Get. The fuck. _Out._ Or you ain't eatin' your meal, mutie." Either Remy hit a nerve, or Remy hit a nerve. Rather than act afraid, Remy goaded the guard further.

"See now, I can do threats, too." He rose from the bed and quickly crossed the room in order to prevent his cell door from shutting. The guard, upon hearing Remy's response, attempted to slam the door closed to execute his warning. "Don't mess wit' me if you know what's good for ya, eh? I'm better lookin' den you." Tossing him a taunting smile, Remy began sauntering down the dim hallway, having finally memorized the directions needed to get to the mess hall.

The meal in itself was uneventful. Remy had learned how to choke down the bland food within a couple of weeks and simply ignore the taste. The other mutants, having gotten used to his presence, paid him no attention for the most part. Whereas he had been receiving nasty looks for the first few days, no one even looked up from their food. Almost every single first impression Remy had of the place was quickly degenerating.

Once the slop was gone, Remy took care of his tray and exited the mess hall. He found it rather odd that the prisoners were allowed to roam most of the prison. The exits were completely blocked off, but aside from half of the day in which they were locked in their cells, they were allowed to visit various rooms set up for them. Remy had learned that there was a small area in which he could go outside, not that he had yet visited that place. He discovered that the prison offered a miniature workout room. He sometimes left the lunchroom to keep his musculature. It wasn't where he went this particular day.

Taking his sweet time in wandering the halls, Remy carefully looked around for the perfect somebody in which to poke some fun at. Normally he didn't have a problem finding a guard, but it always seemed that once somebody wanted something that was previously taken for granted, it disappeared.

Rounding a corner, his footsteps kept light, a sudden smile flashed across Remy's face. He made it to the door rumored to be the exit. No wonder, too, since a couple guards were posted right next to the locking mechanism.

"You don't belong here, mutie," one sentry growled a warning.

"Oh, puh-lease. All y'all do is chat up a storm, but none o' you do a t'ing." Remy continued his walk forward.

"Don't take another step closer," that same man warned, setting his hand on his gun.

"Whatcha gonna do? Shoot me? Yah, I forget. Dis ain't an actual government facility. Ya can do whatever ya want t' do. Talk us t' death? Sure." Remy had stopped his progress to talk with his hands in a safe manner. He kept an eye on both sentinels without giving up just how much he was studying them.

"Just turn around and go back to your cell." The second man reached for a walkie talkie, muttering some code into the speaker. "Do anything stupid, and you might not live."

"Been der, done dat. Maybe you weren't der when someone tried t' kill me da first day I arrived." Remy's eyebrows pulled together irritably. "I don't like when people try t' kill me when I'm all disoriented an' stuff."

"This is your last warning," the guard spat, pulling his pistol out of its holster.

Remy attacked before the mock officer could pull the barrel into a shooting position. Swatting the wrist holding the gun aside with his forearm, Remy threw a short punch into the man's solar plexus. Grabbing the front of his uniform before he doubled over, Remy took on a stable stance and tossed the first guard into the second. Caught unawares, the two men toppled to the ground. Before the functional man could push the deadweight off of him, Remy gave him a swift blow to the head.

"It not a good t'ing t' tell people dat you gonna attack 'em. Not when dey know what t' do." A small grin on his face, Remy knelt over the bodies and searched their pockets for a key out of the place. The escape he had in mind wasn't exactly large scale or helpful to his initial cause, but he figured that now he knew the inside pretty well, he could at least manage a mass breakout from the outside.

He didn't have time to finish investigating their pockets. He'd only gotten through a couple when he heard footsteps, and a lot of them. Bracing himself for a more challenging fight, Remy rose to his feet, clenching his hands into fists. He didn't have his weapons of mass destruction.

These soldiers didn't exchange any witty comments with the Cajun. Instead, they quickly formed an organized line of offense as soon as they were within range. Eyeing up the multiple guns pointed at him, Remy snatched the lighter man from the two he dispatched earlier, hoisting him up as if he was a shield. "Shoot, an' ya gotta go t'rough him," he called out warningly.

The newcomers didn't pause for long. One man waved his hand as a command, and three of the men in formation broke away from the main pack and stalked forward. Only one had a gun in hand, but Remy was getting the inkling that they knew what they were doing.

"Drop the man," the soldier holding the gun demanded. He made sure to stand a safe distance away from the collared mutant.

Remy sniffed, eyeing his accompanying men. "An' if I don't?"

The man tensed his finger on the trigger. Remy twitched to get out of the way, but the shot didn't yet come. "I shoot."

"Ya sure do talk a lot for a soldier," Remy teased, his lopsided grin appearing on his face.

A brief look of confusion passed through the man's eyes, barely noticeable. After the flicker, it was gone, replaced by a look of cold determination and concentration. His eyebrows pulled together slightly, his finger moved, and Remy had already pushed the unconscious guard aside. Ducking below the line of fire before the gun even went off, he launched himself in the gun bearing soldier's direction. Elbowing the first defenseman in the neck whilst strategically pushing him between Remy and the line of soldiers down the hall, Remy quickly took care of one of the three. Aware of the limited time he had, Remy knew he had to keep moving in order to stay alive. Slugs ricocheted off the concrete walls as the further soldiers tried to shoot Remy down. Much to the Cajun's luck, they all missed.

The second of the three brave soldiers went down just as quickly as the first. Launching a well-aimed fist toward his jaw, Remy knocked his head back and threw the man to the ground. As he was turning to the last man, he squeezed off two consecutive shots. One missed, the other did not.

Grunting at the sudden pain, lessened by the adrenaline rush, Remy didn't bother checking the wound before slapping the gun handler's weapon out of his hand. A punch landed on his nose, the man went down.

Remy turned to the line of soldiers down the hall, only to discover a larger dispatch had crept up on him while he was occupied with the first. Remy managed to get one arm up in time to block a blow, but two more attacked him from the other side. Losing energy quickly, Remy eventually dropped to his knees and succumbed to their greater power.

He was vaguely aware of the soldiers grasping him around his arms to cuff his hands behind his back. He barely felt them drag him roughly across the ground, walking him through the maze to reach the infirmary. He didn't realize that he had been lifted onto a hard hospital bed, the cuffs around his back transferred to keep his hands attached to the rails on either side of the bed. There was no way out. He had already learned this, but he refused to believe.

.

"I know I intended to visit you again, but I didn't think it would be in here," a familiar voice called. It pulled Remy from his drowsy state. The sound of curtains being pulled back reached his ears straight after as the woman let herself inside. "I went to go to your cell, but I was told that you were in here instead." She turned around to close the curtains behind her.

"I glad you here," Remy replied sleepily. A small grin spread across his lips, the pain almost evaporated since he woke up.

She stepped close to look down at him. An expression of concern was painted on her face. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I would be," Remy replied, wiggling his wrists. The sharp clang of the metal against metal sounded in the small space. "But I can't feel much, an' I be strapped to dis bed." A small scowl slipped across his face despite himself. The prison had eventually learned the hard way that Remy was a dangerous man, powers or no powers. He wasn't quite sure how this would affect his nearly nonexistent plans, but he was sure that it would. He'd now be watched like a hawk watches its prey before it strikes.

Despite the dreary thoughts, his scowl swiftly changed to a dopey grin. "But I feel better now dat you here," he supplied. He wasn't quite sure if he said this to deceive her, since he didn't trust her altogether, or if some place in his mind, he really did believe it. If the latter was the case, he could find himself in even deeper trouble than he had first imagined.

A sympathetic smile replaced the woman's look of concern. Getting even closer to his bed, she grabbed his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's probably for the best that you're not able to feel much. Can you feel this, though?" She squeezed his hand again in attempts to comfort him.

Remy closed his eyes at the second squeeze, the initial grin becoming more real. "Yah, I feel it," he murmured. He missed the feel of friendly human contact, and now that he was alone with this woman again, it brought the mixed feelings right back up again.

The woman moved closer to his bed, shifting to sit herself lightly on the edge where there wasn't railing. Once she was situated, she flashed him a small smile. "Just what did you do in order for this to happen in the first place?" she inquired innocently. Remy was briefly surprised that she would be asking, since he assumed that she would already know from what he inferred about her stature in the place, but he didn't let it show. He couldn't let it show, for what he was going to say.

He didn't want to blatantly tell her that he had been trying to escape, but he didn't want to feed her an outright lie, either. She could very possibly pick up on that if she ever questioned one of the guards. "I don't remember much, chere," he said slowly, his brows pulled together. His act, combined with the ambiguous case, could very well throw her off. Remy had been lying for most of his life and had become quite good at it, so he couldn't see how she would be able to see through his act. "All I know was dat it was a panic … di'n't make sense."

She turned her face away from a second, possibly debating over his answer. He waited for an answer, but didn't show the tension through his body language. "You must have done something for the guards to put you in here," she remarked with a small shake of her head. "You're lucky they didn't out rightly kill you."  
Of course he did something for the guards to put him in the infirmary with handcuffs around his wrists. He'd outright attacked them, as well as receive his fair share of bruises and lumps; they hadn't been nice to him once they got him in their grasp. If he wasn't mistaken, once the pain medication wore off, he'd find a plethora of bruises across his body.

"If I did somet'in', I don't remember," Remy continued with a small shrug of his shoulders. "Maybe I am lucky I ain't dead." All things considered, Remy probably was a very lucky Cajun this night. Most of the people fighting against him had guns, and he didn't have his powers. His agility was only human, honed to a mortal peak because of his lifelong training and conditioning. At least the shot he took wouldn't bother him for long.

"I'm glad that you're alright, though," the lady confessed quietly. "It could have been a lot worse."

She leaned over his form, placing her face directly above his. Her curtains of hair spilled around his head as she lightly brushed her lips against his. "Don't do anything stupid again; otherwise I won't be able to do this anymore." Her whisper was loud enough for only him to hear. The only reason he heard it over the machinery was because she was so close to him.

Remy could only smile at her whisper. He couldn't move because of the cuffs, and his legs felt too heavy to twitch. He was completely vulnerable and at her surrender, should she decide to do anything. He didn't altogether enjoy the situation, but he might as well make the best of it.

"I won't, chere," Remy whispered back. "You won't have t' worry no more." She probably hadn't even been worrying in the first place. Why would someone such as her have to worry about a prisoner when it was her job to … well, he hadn't quite figured that out yet. He was surprised that she sought him out again and then spent some innocent time with him while he was too weak to move. Something was clicking.

If she did decide to care about him, Remy wasn't going to let her get to him. He still had Rogue, after all, wherever she went. Besides, while he might not try to escape all by himself again, he still planned on trying to find a select few prisoners and plan a mass breakout with them. What the government was doing to them was certainly not alright in Remy's books. The attention he received from this girl was not enough to have him stay in his cell, as complacent as an old dog, and take what was dished out to him.

Names caused people to get attached to things. Because Remy didn't know this woman's name, he thought he had a better chance at letting her go come the time. He could lose his interest in her if he had a bigger project at hand.

This woman must not have been a telepath, because another easy smile played across her lips. "Is that a promise?" she asked, her voice still low. She dipped her face lower, brushing her lips across his again in a mock kiss. Remy could feel her fingertips rise to his cheek, brushing lightly against his skin. Her eyes gazed into his, almost begging for him to promise. Either she really did care for his safety, or she was one damn good lier.

Remy didn't reply right away. This wasn't because he was hesitating or rethinking his lie, but merely to take his time.

"Oui."

This lie was almost harder than the previous one. Her body language suggested that they were actually close, despite the fact that neither knew the other very well. Remy continued to ask questions about her, trying to answer them all, but this wasn't new. He never trusted a person upon first meeting them. This routine was certainly not fresh.

Her eyes lit up at this comment, another smile appearing on her face. "Now that's what I like to hear," she murmured.  
Moving in close again, she initiated a real kiss this time. Her tongue swiped over his lips, asking for entrance, which he willingly gave. This was more akin to what they had earlier and a little more to Remy's pace. She must have been waiting for some sort of compliance and puppy-dog willingness in order to … was this a reward?

Drawing back a little later, the pace of their conversation quickly changed. "I can't stay for long," she admitted. "Actually, if I got caught being here, then I would be in a lot of trouble." As if to punctuate her point, she glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting someone to be coming up behind her from the other side of the curtains.

Remy tried reaching for her arm with his closest hand, but the restrictions of the handcuffs wouldn't let him touch. "I don't want you gettin' int' trouble, chere," he said softly, "but I don' want you leavin', neither."

This, unlike nearly everything else said in this room, was true. When Remy wasn't in the griping mood, he was rarely ever alone. He wasn't emotionally attached to this woman, and he certainly didn't trust her, but that didn't stop him from wanting her at the moment. He didn't want to be left in the hospital-like room, either. He never really liked the places.

Remy was a man that did things. Being strapped to a bed, completely helpless and at others' mercies was not on his list of favorite things to do.

Her eyes caught his when he finished his sentence, and an unreadable look crossed her face.

"I wish I could stay longer, too. I know it sounds stupid, but I'm already starting to feel attached to you. Feels like you're the only real thing in this place.

"If I'm to stay on the best side, then I need to get out of here. It's much worse for women here than it is for me."

He wasn't sure what to think of this. She could have been spouting things that would comfort him and continue to make him eat out of her hand or she could have shoved the bullshit aside. He sensed that she wove lies into her truths, which made it all the more harder for him to sift through.

Getting a taste of his own medicine wasn't very helpful.

"Alright, chere," he said softly. He had been studying her eyes, trying to read them and her emotions, but eventually let it drop. "I hope t' see you soon." The last bit was weak, but she would most likely buy it.

"You get yourself some rest. You look like you really need it." Her voice was a little stronger and louder now, but it did confirm Remy's thoughts about his condition.

He intended to get better. His cell was better than this room. At least he could walk around without having to worry about much in there, as cold as it was. In here, it was warmer, but his muscles would soon be cramping if he didn't get enough exercise.

"I'll try and see you again, as soon as I can. I promise," she told him, her voice dropping down again.

Bringing her fingertips to her lips, she kissed them softly before bringing her hand down on his lips, as if transferring the kiss. Offering him one more smile, she got up off of her perch and headed towards the curtains, peeking out.

"Goodbye," she whispered over her shoulder before disappearing on the other side.

"Au revoir," he answered needlessly; her footsteps had already receded into nothingness. He was once again alone in the room.

Resting his head on the lumpy pillow, he hoped that he could get a little nap in to pass the time. The harsh fluorescent lights shone right through his eyelids, no matter which position he put his head in, making the task especially hard. The fact that he didn't have the energy to will himself to sleep didn't help much, either.

He just hoped that he'd be back in his cell soon. He didn't have to worry about any of this shit there. Plus, it was a little more exciting in there, believe it or not.


	6. Chapter 6

After a couple more days in the infirmary, Remy was allowed to go back to his cell. His wounds were healing nicely, no thanks to the doctors' attentions, but to the relatively clean surroundings. His hands had been released from the metallic embrace of the handcuffs only when food had been brought to him, but he had been confined to his bed the whole time. The shackles had stayed on through his journey through the hallways, but he had been relinquished of their hold when given free reign of his cell.

The next couple of days, the guards had paid special attention to their most recent violent prisoner. Remy could feel the perpetually dirty looks of the men on his back throughout the whole day unless he was locked behind bars. Because of this, and half conscious of his promise to the jail lady, Remy made sure that he was especially well behaved. Eventually everyone's interest in the Cajun waned and it was back to the normal.

The guards normally didn't drag Remy around. Rumors had reached some peoples' ears about how easily he had taken care of the small group of soldiers, even under pressure, despite how hushed it had first appeared.

Yet to every rule, there is an exception. Fear wasn't always the ultimate motivator. To some people, such as Gambit, an adrenaline rush was much more important than the fear itself. Or, in the case of the prison personnel, the job was more important than rumors.

Remy's door clanked open, bringing the Cajun to instant awareness. On his feet, his eyes alive, he stared down the three guards that entered his cell. "Can I … help ya?" Remy asked slowly, prepared to give up a fight if need be. He still wasn't in tip-top shape, but that had never stopped him before.

As his first day in the prison, Remy didn't receive a verbal response. He was coming to miss the actual conversations he once held with random people, even. Instead, two of the guards rushed him, attempting to grab his arms. Expecting the worst, Remy dodged the first man with a side step. Spinning on his heel, balancing himself out, Remy then sent a kick at the second guard's chest. Catching him, he was thrown to the ground with a loud grunt.

"Seriously, I'm _done_ wit' dis shit," Remy growled. Taking a step back, he grabbed the fist of the first man to twist it behind his back. If the guard dared to move, Remy could use his leverage to disable to use of his arm, either temporarily or infinitely. "Ya already know dat attackin' me ain't gonna work, an' y'all jus' keep doin' it. Don't cha ever learn, hommes? Now, tell me wha's goin' on an' I won't dislocate da arm o' dis garҫon."

Remy's face fell when more guards piled into his cell. "Crashin' parties in da prison now?"

Giving up to prevent further injuries, Remy let them shackle him down again. As soon as the people were sure that he was secure, two burly men took him by the arms and proceeded to drag him down the hallways. Another man walked as an escort in front of them. Once he stopped, the two thugs stopped. He opened a door, and the bodyguards dragged Remy inside.

Concerned more about the happenings rather than his surroundings, Remy tried jerking his arms out of the guards' grasps, but to no avail. A small snarl on his face, he barked, "Ya jus' gonna hold me all day?" If he really wanted to, he probably could have gotten out of their grips, but considering that his last escape attempt was already in mind, and the fact that this was a high security prison, he didn't think the consequences would be in his favor.

Held fast in the men's grips, Remy took in a deep breath and stared off into a portion of the wall. Sensing some movement in his peripheral, his gaze soon shifted and fell on the sad form of a girl. Blinking, Remy's anger was temporarily forgotten as he studied her.

She had long black hair, which had probably been honed to a silky sheen at some point in her life. Now it was tangled and knotted into a knarly pattern, curtaining her eyes and down her back. He couldn't make out much of her face, but from what he could see past the twisted strands of hair was definitely Asian. Long eyelashes peeked out at him, her small mouth quivering and silent.

Her delicate legs were pulled up against her chest, her thin arms wrapped around them to hold the limbs in place. She was sitting on the edge of a bed, trying to stay inconspicuous while the guards battled with Remy. Her hands surreptitiously made their way to hear ears, as if that little barrier of flesh could block out any noise.

Quickly snapping out of his thoughts, Remy turned once again to getting out of the brutes' grasps. Jerking his arms forcefully away, he demanded, "Lemme go, _dammit!"_ They didn't pay him attention. What was their point in bringing the Cajun in this room if they were going to only hold him in place?

Remy wasn't left to struggle for long. Once again catching the girl out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she was now moving. Instantly understanding what she was reaching for, he decided to make a little more of a commotion so that the guards couldn't see the same thing he did.

A scalpel bounced harmlessly off the shoulder of the nearest guard.

"The _fuck!"_ he screeched. His grip loosened on Remy's arm as he whipped around to face the assailant.

Grinning to himself, Remy slipped his arm out of the guard's grasp. Using his newfound leverage to his advantage, he twisted around and kneed the second man in the crotch. Leaving him for the time being, Remy then rammed into the first guard's side, knocking him off balance. Catching himself before he toppled over, Remy kicked out at his head. He instantly crumpled to the ground.

A third guard whom had been standing sentry at the door rushed Remy. Anticipating the move, Remy sidestepped away from him, giving him a swift kick in the chest. Having finished with those two, he quickly knocked the last unconscious.

"Well, _dis_ ain't what I planned," Remy muttered to himself whilst studying his handiwork. His "promise" to the friendly lady jumped into mind. He didn't look to find himself in trouble this time; instead, trouble found him.

Currently ignoring the female prisoner, Remy struggled to get his cuffed arms in front of his body. Bending over to fetch the scalpel the girl threw, Remy used it to pick the locks on the manacles. As soon as he was free, he regarded her. She didn't move, but cowered on the bed as if Remy was the man he should fear.

Walking up to her to grab her hand rather forcefully so as to get both of their bodies out of the room, he introduced himself. "Call me Gambit, chere," he said cheerfully. "If we had more time, I'd introduce m'self further, but dese ain't da only guards 'round here."

"Sayuri …" she said softly. Remy guessed that it was her name.

Her dark blue eyes met his for a moment, flicking back and forth as if searching for something. Either finding it or giving up, she then lowered her head.

"Follow me," Remy demanded. He pulled her across the room. He had the abstract feeling that if he let go of her hand, he would lose her to the hungry jaws of the unconscious guards and his hard work would be forgotten. He understood that the two of them would get caught, but he hoped that he could get away from the scene of the crime, if only to be able to talk to her a little more.

"Quickly an' silently, 'kay?" he asked her. She didn't answer him.

Before jumping headfirst into the hallway, he listened for their footsteps. When he heard none, he peeked his head out, glanced both ways, and then leaped into action.

Having learned the general layout of the building during his stay, he dragged Sayuri through the hallways until they reached a relatively secluded area. A few of the lights in this hallway were burnt out, making the atmosphere even dimmer than usual. No sounds echoed down the hallways to reach their ears, giving Remy a false sense of security.

Sayuri must have sensed the finality in their position, because she quickly sank to her knees. Remy let go of her hand, but watched her carefully to make sure she didn't slip away. He needn't have worried. She looked at him with her wide Asian eyes and gave him a small dip of her head in thanks.

Remy knelt down in front of her, resting his weight on one knee. He bowed his back forward so that his face was level with hers, the better to see her features with. Her skin was pale and white, her features fine. If she didn't have so much hair, Remy would be able to distinguish them a little better.

"Anyt'in' wrong?" he inquired. "We be safe for a few minutes, at least. Can't say what happens af'er dat, though." He offered her a small smile to better comfort her, hoping it would overcome her shyness.

"All is," she replied. Her voice carried a thick Japanese accent, and from her word choice, Remy promptly knew that she didn't know much English. He could speak some Japanese, but he'd heard from nearly every Japanese person he talked to that his language was terrible.

Her eyes searched him for another long moment before her chin dropped to her shoulder. Remy followed her gaze down the hallway, but could find nothing.

"We be in trouble…." Her words were carefully pronounced, and she struggled with every single word.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were wide with fear. She bit her lip.

"What's specifically wrong, chere?" Remy asked, her last statement hardly fazing him. He reached out to touch her face as to comfort her. He knew that it was a borderline daring move, considering how shy she was, but it didn't bother him. She didn't flinch at his touch, at the very least.

"Of course we be in trouble. I took out trios guards, an' den we ran away. But I don't t'ink da punishment be any better if we meet dem instead o' dem findin' us." He offered her another bright smile, taking his hand back and placing it on his knee. "Da choice is yours, though. I live wit' whatever dey dish out t' me."

"I … I come to … find someone," she stated, almost as if it were a part of a different conversation. She pointed to herself. Looking away very briefly after he took his hand away, she took in a small breath.

"I stay." With that being said, she sat fully on the ground.

"Who you lookin' for?" Remy asked carefully. A thoughtful look crossed his face. He heard her shift in front of him, but he didn't move from his position. If anyone tried to sneak up on them, Remy would have a better chance at retaliating when he had at least one foot on the ground.

"Maybe if I know 'em, I can help ya find 'em." It was hard talking to her. Not because she was hiding inside her shell, but because her accent was so thick and her English so limited. Normally it was the Japanese that had to decipher Remy's pronunciation.

"No … name," Sayuri replied with a shake of her head. Remy sighed at the lack of information that she had on hand. "He … in New York…. X-Men." The word "X-Men," however, gave Remy a start. Could the man she be looking for be Xavier? He'd hate to be the bringer of bad news and tell her that he had absolutely no idea where the professor was.

"You … X-Men?" She tilted her head to the side at this inquiry.

Finding her mannerisms irresistible, Remy smiled. Nodding, he answered, "Oui, I'm an X-Man."

At this revelation, Sayuri's face brightened up in a broad smile. Remy was almost thrown off at how different she was suddenly acting.

"He care for me," she stated proudly. "He … short … brown eyes." Her brow furrowed in thought as she tried to think of her savior.

Logan was the first man to pop into Remy's head. There weren't a lot of short men in the X-Men. "It ain't Wolverine, is it?" Remy asked, his face falling slightly. It was the most logical choice, after all, and still the only man that Remy could think of.

Sayuri took her time in thinking over this. She lowered her chin again as she bit her bottom lip. "No … name," she repeated.

Remy sighed, feeling beaten. He understood that she hadn't caught a name, but that didn't help the game out at all. "Alright, I get it," he mumbled.

He watched her as she continuously glanced down the hallway without a word, wondering how the guessing game would work out. She didn't comment on it further, but appeared to get increasingly antsier. Finally, she gave up on looking back and forth between hallways and brought her hand up to brush her knotted hair aside.

Without thought, Remy brought his hand up, brushing her cheek with his thumb. She started at his sudden touch, looking him into his eyes before tilting her head away. "I'm … dancer," she supplied. She pointed to herself. "Yo-ka…? You?"

"You dance, chere?" Remy needlessly asked. He would rather start on that than try to figure out what she was asking of him. Instead of receiving a verbal response, she smiled and nodded her head. Waiting a couple more seconds, seeing that she was curious as to what he said, he went off on a limb in answering her. "I was a t'ief," he said with a wink. "Dat in itself is an art."

Sayuri looked away, thinking furiously. Remy realized he should watch his accent, trying to make it as perfect as possible for her sake, but she appeared to get it anyway. "Thief..." she repeated upon understanding.

Remy nodded. "Oui, thief." He grinned at her, mostly because he felt silly at eliminating his Louisianan accent whilst using French.

She didn't seem to notice. Looking off down the hallway again, possibly noticing something that escaped Remy's notice or as a result of paranoia, she rose to her feet. Her bare feet padding silently across the floor, she walked past the thief to better study the hallway. "Look," she announced, pointing up at the ceiling.

He rose to his full height and walked up beside her, following her finger. While he had been running with her in tow, he hadn't noticed how short she was. The prison was full of tiny women.

"Da vent?" he questioned. If she thought it was a good means of escape, she was sorely mistaken. Unlike the movies and cartoons where a protagonist used vents as a last-second means of transportation, Remy knew otherwise. By the looks of this vent, it would hardly support Remy's weight at all. Even if it did, it would transfer sound much too easily, giving away their position, and cause them to meet their fate inside the prison walls.

"Chere," he said softly, setting a hand on her shoulder. "I won't be able t' go wit' ya if dat's how ya wanna escape. But I'll help ya if ya want."

Sayuri instantly lowered her head, averting her eyes. The brief look on her face told Remy that that hadn't been her plan at all. Sliding down out of his reach, she once again sat on the floor. "So … we wait?" Her eyes met his again, and by sheer force of will, Remy was able to maintain the eye contact.

Letting out a sigh, Remy followed her lead and sat down beside her. "Guess we do." He watched her paranoid activity: glancing down the hallways, her eyes twitching. Remy didn't hear a thing, nor did he sense anything. "Unless you don't wanna wait, chere," he added in a whisper. He scooted closer to her side.

She didn't appear to notice his advancement. Sitting more calmly than ever before, she settled her hands into her lap, looking ahead. Eventually she tilted her head to the side and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "What else?"

He couldn't possibly have thought that he was going to die in this prison, did he? Remy's rational mind must have been thrown out the proverbial window as soon as he started to accept the small things about this place. He slept with a powerful person, which could give him the upper hand later on, but also put him in a dangerous position. Now he was flirting with danger by running off with this strange woman. He almost felt the need to comfort her and support her, but he couldn't think of anything to warrant that thinking.

"Maybe …" Remy began, touching her face softly with his fingers. Her face turned more towards his, her eyes on him. Bringing his face closer to hers, he allowed his fingers to run down her jaw line, stopping on her chin. "Dis?" He wanted an actual invitation from her, rather than go for it. She wasn't the typical woman that he did anything with at all.

He thought that she was going to go for it, because she closed the distance so that her lips brushed against his. She had such bright, full lips. Before they actually kissed, she lowered her head and mumbled an apology.

"Sorry fer what, chere?" Remy whispered. He brushed his hand through her hair until they got caught in a knot. Disentangling himself, he continued, "You di'n't do not'in' wrong."

Using his other hand, Remy lightly grabbed the hand she had placed upon his chest and brought it up to his lips so as to kiss her knuckles. This movement, or perhaps his words, broke whatever chain was holding her back. She moved in close again, brushing her lips across his, but appeared to wait for him to make the actual move.

Kissing her carefully, Remy curled an arm around her delicate form. She was a little light in the dim hallways, someone who needed him. Being alone in this prison didn't suit Remy. He found it a little strange, especially after everything he had been through in his life, but he figured it was a time for a change. He just didn't know if said change would be beneficial to him later on, or if the experience would help him out. Only time would tell.

She pressed her body up against him. Her actions were needy, but amateur, not that Remy much minded. Eventually, she pulled back, a heavy blush across her face. Remy smiled to himself, kissing her on the forehead and caressing her cheek. When he pulled back, Sayuri looked behind her for a quick check. Seeing the coast was still clear, she brought her one hand up to her shoulder, pulling the collar of her sweater down to her lower arm. Her eyes swiftly sought out his before she looked down again, the blush deepening across her cheeks.

Remy was honestly surprised when she exposed her skin. Just from her body language, he understood that such a movement was quite a mean thing to her. Yet that wasn't the only thing that she did. Holding him, she moved her other hand up to his neck, her eyes locked on his.

"Chere?" he questioned, his voice huskier. He needed to understand that she knew what she was doing and wasn't making a large mistake.

"Hai?" She brought her face closer, but stopped short of kissing him. "Chiyo…." Remy figured that it was her first name, and the one he had been given earlier was her last. Or however the Japanese did it.

"Remy," Gambit answered just as simply, his voice quiet. He caught her lips with his, his hands running along the soft skin of her body.

Chiyo stiffened, her head snapping to one side in alarm. Blinking, first out of confusion, and then out of understanding, he untangled himself from her, pulling her to her feet. She pulled her hands close to her body, fear plain in her eyes. Remy glanced down one side of the hallway, trying to pinpoint where the danger would come from. He needn't have tried. Chiyo yelled out a muffled cry, followed by a soft scuffle.

Whipping around, body already on the defense, Remy saw a guard holding Chiyo tight, a hand clamped firmly over her mouth.

"Let 'er go!" Remy shouted pathetically. He didn't realize how cliché the line was, not when her life could possibly be on the line. The prisoners had to perpetually worry about their state of health in this place. That much Remy had learned right away.

Roughly grabbing the guard's arm, Remy pulled back his thumb to release his grip from around Sayuri. Trying to split his attention, Remy pushed Chiyo out of the way in hopes to get her out of the confrontational situation. The guard managed to get a strong grip on one of Remy's arms. Remy threw him a roll of his eyes before spinning sharply, releasing the man's grip, and then sending a well-aimed kick at his chest. The man stumbled backwards, hitting the wall with a muffled sound.

Remy turned to face the girl. "Get out o' here!" He placed his body to best shield her view from the man's unconscious form. "Go!" He pointed in the direction he thought it was best to run, though any direction could have been better than the other.

Instead of running, she shook her head. Plain shock was written across her face. Yet instead of being completely helpless, she grabbed Remy's hand and tugged. She wanted to protect him now?

Remy felt a wave of dismay at her unwillingness to part. He wasn't sure if breaking up or staying together was a better idea. "Fine, I come wit'," he decided quickly.

Looking around to determine the better direction, the pressure still on his shoulders, Remy started dragging her off in the hallway that he earlier pointed out. He kept his guard up—all other thoughts banished—expecting prison guards to jump out of every shadow. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't know what how running would help in the long run. After one guard had found them, others would soon follow.

"We need t' get outta here, or we in big trouble," he thought out loud. He felt a shiver run down his back at such a thought. He unconsciously pulled Chiyo a little closer, shifting his hand from her fingers to around her waist.

Barely aware of the change of pace, Chiyo took control of their movement. She pulled him along to a dead end, guiding him to the wall. Offering him a small smile, she murmured, "'M sorry."

"Huh?"

She didn't answer him with words, which was expected. What wasn't expected was her small shove as she pushed him back into the wall. Before he could fully regain his footing, she turned around and dashed out of the dead end, into the hallway they were just in. She disappeared from sight.

"Chiyo!" he shouted, feeling a small wave of panic. Such an emotion was uncommon for the self-assured man. Pushing his body into a sprint, Remy ran after her, only to find her on the floor, cuffs around her wrists.

"No," he growled. Jumping onto the bigger of the two guards at the scene of the crime, he shoved him into the wall. Punching him in the jaw, taking advantage of his disgruntled state, he sidled out of his reach. Then, striking out with one foot, he finished him off.

The second guard, seeing Remy as more of a threat than the cuffed lady, rose to his feet and threw a couple of punches at him. Dodging them, Remy grabbed hold of the guard's fist as leverage. He brought his second hand up in a move to take him out completely. Instead of striking, Remy felt a piercing amount of electrical energy in his side. Letting out an involuntary cry of pain, his knees buckling, Remy was rendered useless in one move. A second shock through his body sent him crashing to the ground, his environment swimming in and out of his vision. He vaguely heard Chiyo scream his name.

Remy regained consciousness as the guards dragged him down the hallway as if he was a carcass. The ground was insufferably dirty down this particular corridor, but Remy didn't have enough energy to move, let alone get out of the guards' grips.

His hands were bound behind his back once again, the cold metal biting into the flesh of his wrists. The fingers were digging into his biceps, all sentiments toward the once-likeable prisoner long since evaporated.

The trio eventually reached a door. The guards paused, waiting for a third standing sentry to open it for them. Remy tried lifting his head to gain a better understanding of what was transpiring, but quickly let it drop again when pain shot through his body. He didn't know what had been used on him, but it certainly wasn't like anything he had ever experienced before.

The door opened silently, allow the guards to throw Remy harshly against one of the walls. The only light existed from the outside, which was fine by Remy. He was too busy trying to ward off the pain, not allowing the guards to gain any satisfaction in mistreating him so. His head had hit the brick wall, instantly giving him a pounding headache, only adding to his list of injuries.

The door soon shut, throwing the Cajun in complete darkness, but if Remy knew anything, he wouldn't be alone for long. Using the time to himself, he tried to compose himself. He was slumped against the wall, lying on his side, no energy to straighten himself up.

A respectable amount of time passed, though Remy didn't feel any better as it ticked by. Too soon, he heard the guard mumble on the other side of the door before it was opened again, allowing another, healthier body through.

"So what do we have here …?" a feminine voice inquired. The click of a light switch, soon followed by an impossible amount of light followed. "…Gambit?" Her voice was filled with shock, but Remy knew who it was. That same girl … the one he never wanted to learn the name to.

Remy didn't move beside try to hide his eyes from the intruding rays of unnatural light. "You?" he croaked, though it wasn't much of a question. He should have known that she was one of the bullies of the place, used to keep the prisoners in line. What else could she be? She couldn't have been here to console him in his time of pain.

He tried to take a deep breath—to push it aside—but his breath hitched painfully in his chest. He cringed to himself for a moment, but then lifted his head in defiance to his condition. "What you doin' here, chere?" Even though he had already deduced her role in the whole scope of things, he needed to hear it from her.

"And here I was going to ask you that exact same thing," she remarked. She crossed the room, the heels of her boots echoing louder than ever before. Squatting down in front of him, she shook her head. "I guess this means that you broke your promise to me and tried to escape again." She lightly trailed her finger along Remy's jaw line.

Remy let out a small laugh at her statement, instantly regretting it when it sent pain webbing through his ribs. "I di'n't mean t' break it," he insisted weakly. The words came out of their own accord; he wasn't sure if they were true to him or not.

She stared at him for a moment longer, but then reached out and grabbed him around the shoulders. She lifted him into a sitting position, though without any strain showing across her face. Remy barely noticed as he hissed out in pain whilst trying to keep the tendrils of pain show across his face.

She didn't appear to notice. "I guess the only thing to ask is whether you did it deliberately or whether someone coerced you into doing it."

"I ne'er meant t' act'ly get very far or attack anyone." He forced a smile, though it turned out to be more of a grimace than anything. "Dey don't play very nice here, do dey?" he asked, his head swimming.

She laughed, as small as the bubbly response was. "You're not wrong there. And that was why I didn't want you to get up to anything. Why risk it? You've already spent some time in the infirmary. The guards could have actually killed you this time." She brought her hand up again, though this time to brush some hair out of his face.

"Kill me?" Remy asked, shutting his eyes at her touch. Of course the fuckers would try killing him if he gave them a real window. He wouldn't be surprised if anyone tried getting rid of him sometime along the line. "An' dis time … da fault not completely mine."

Perhaps he had been wrong in his first impression. He could have been wrong all along. She didn't appear to want to inflict any more harm upon him, and was almost doing a passable job at pretending concerned. He believed it, especially through his personal agony.

"I should have known that you'd get into trouble again. Guys like you are always getting in some kind of trouble. And for some reason it's always the bad guys that end up catching my attention." She gave him a wan smile.

"I get a next time, non?" With some effort, he straightened out his head to look at her straight, relying heavily on the wall on his back. "'Cause da next time … der ain't no t'oughts o' escapin', chere. I … I cooperate next time." It was almost a new pain to say these words out loud. He'd understood torture before, but not to such a long term effect like this. He was actually beginning to believe that he would step down … become like everyone else. In other words, give up.

He found her lips brushing against his, some emotion playing behind her eyes that he just couldn't place. "You're right; you're not going to try it again. Because it's my job to make sure that you don't," she confided in him softly.

"Your job?" Remy repeated dumbly. Now she did have him confused as to what her motives were.

"Have you not figured out who I am yet, Gambit? You might have heard my name around this place. It's Raven."

He managed to lift his head up completely at this revelation. He had heard murmurs around the prison of that name, and by the short snippets that he managed to catch, that name was not affiliated with happiness and pleasure. To find out that this iffy woman was her … was a little disturbing. He would much rather believe the prisoners, as they were of greater number and had fewer reasons to lie to each other, than her. If she really was the monster everyone claimed her to be, she must have been one amazing liar, which meant that Remy could find himself in deep shit later on. That, or if he was on her good side, had one amazing ally.

"Raven?" he asked, his voice dropping. "Really?" With much conscious effort, he covered up his expression with a small smile. "I been wit' Raven?"

"Yup. You, Gambit, slept with me, Raven. You have to admit that you enjoyed it, 'cause I know that I did." A small, slightly wicked smile flickered across her features. "So what have you heard about me? Could be amusing to what you've heard. I don't normally pay attention to what the prisoners say, but it might give me a little insight." She shifted to beside him, laying her arms across her knees, looking at him expectantly.

"I never denied I di'n't not like it," Remy replied while she moved around. He took his time in composing an answer, knowing instantly that he wasn't going to tell her the truth. He didn't think much on the fact that their whole relationship was built up on lies, especially since learning of her identity. He knew that he didn't want to know her name.

"Haven't heard much, chere," he admitted untruthfully. "Jus' a word here an' der. Da only t'ing I know for sure is dat you ain't a friendly character 'round here." Putting it more bluntly like that, interweaving some truths in with the lie, would help his story out a little more. He knew from experience that half-lies were the hardest to pick out.

"That's it?" Raven's voice was almost incredulous. "I'm just not a friendly person? I guess I can go with that since a lot of the things I do aren't nice. I get paid not to be nice. Haven't been that way with you, though." She grinned.

"What do you think of me? What do you think the real me is?" She glanced at him sideways, a scrutinizing look on her face. Did she really not understand him? Was that look a real look? If so … Remy might be safe, at least relatively.

"I not so sure what t' t'ink no more. Somehow I still t'ink da same t'ing as last time we saw each other, but den I di'n't know who you were." Once again, his lie rang with half truth, making his confidence that much harder for her to sift through. If she could keep surprising him, he could very well give her the taste of her own medicine.

"See, that just begs yet another question, doesn't it?" Another smile spread across her face as she shifted her chin to the back of her hand. "Just what did you think of me the last time? I could probably hazard some sort of guess, but I really want to know the truth."

Now he was treading in deep water. There was no way in knowing if she would suddenly snap on him if he did slip up. He couldn't give her reason to believe that what she was learning from him was a lot of fake. "I t'ought—still t'ink—dat you a pretty woman, chere," he replied cheekily. Only after that did he think back to how he felt back at that last particular time.

He'd been drugged, if he wasn't mistaken. He was more lulled into her charm, getting the flip side of his actions, rather than resistant. Some inkling in the back of his brain was telling him that something was wrong, but just as before, he ignored it. Now he didn't have much of a choice.

Raven nodded infinitesimally, a patient look on her face. After a long period of silence, her face went blank, followed by an eyebrow raise. "That was it? You think I'm pretty? Well, that was hardly insightful at all. I could go up to a complete stranger and they could tell me that." She shook her head. "Want to try again? Tell me what you thought of me. And not my appearance. Tell me how you felt around me. Give me a little something here."

Gambit gave a little smile at her reaction. Not only was it a little humorous, but it wasn't what he was expecting, either. Even so, her begging of a real answer put him in a tough position. He had never been a man to profess his love to anyone, and while that certainly wasn't the case with him, he didn't want to give her any holds over him. He needed to stay independent, as much as that was beating him down.

"I sure you already know how I felt," he replied carefully. He lifted his hand enough to run a finger down her cheek, despite the challenge it presented to his pain-wracked body. "Wasn't t'inkin' much den, though." Considering the state he had been in, he figured that this statement was highly believable.

She smiled at him. "That could have been taken as sweet, if I knew what you meant. Truth is, I don't have a clue what you mean. Not fully anyway. Lust is about the only thing I know. Beyond that … it's a mere blank."

After Raven said the word "lust," Remy knew that was the word he was looking for. He had more or less been used by Raven—or the other way around—the first time, his actions not dictated by his mind, but by his lust. After the realization came down on him, Remy knew that he had to cover it up. Something told him that he had to make Raven believe that it wasn't lust, but something deeper. Make her thing that she had her claws sunk into him, like he was comparable to all the other bumbling idiots in this shack. He needed for her to have a soft spot for him.

As his finger slipped from her face from lack of energy, she grabbed his hand. "You know that I really should be coming down on your arse right now. But I'm not going to. If you haven't learned your lesson by now, then you never will. You see all these injuries with you, I could pull them off all on my lonesome and in less time than it took you to get them, all with my bare hands." Her voice was matter-of-fact, and rang with the truth. Remy swore that his heard skipped a beat. The stories were true, then, and certainly not exaggerated. He began to believe that if they ever fell into this type of situation again, that minute threat in those words would be carried out.

"I …" He tried swallowing to wet his suddenly dry throat. "I learned my lesson, chere. No longer I try t' escape. Promise." He didn't much want to escape all on his lonesome anyway. One thing she didn't know, and never would, was that he sought out this prison to break out the X-Men. He ended up on the inside, complicating things a bit, but his goal didn't change. He knew, that given time, he could elaborate this lie he had concocted, make her really believe and possibly even trust him.

She smiled at him again, something ringing more genuine in it this time. "Good boy," she stated simply, her voice pleased.

"Maybe the next time I see you will be in more pleasant circumstances."

"You ain't … leavin' now, chere?" Worry built up behind his voice.

He really didn't want her to leave. Even knowing how dangerous she was, he enjoyed being in her company. Plus, he figured that if she did leave, he would only be lugged off to his cell anyway, to nurse his injuries by his lonesome. "I don't want you t' leave." He caught her eyes with his own. He knew full well that he didn't have his full charm to help him along, but she still did have a small soft spot for him, at the very least.

"You that desperate for company that you actually want to stay here with me for a while?" Her brows raised as amusement played in her voice. She took only a moment in deciding. Giving a little shrug, she sat back up against the wall, having moved to leave at her finishing statement before. "I suppose I could stay here a while longer, though. If anyone asks why you're not covered in more bruises you can just say I slept with you instead."

"Dis better den not'in'," he confided. That, at least, was the truth, and nothing but the truth. "An' it not so much bruises den … jus' feelin' terrible."

"Well, if it's any consolation, you look terrible as well." She chuckled to herself. "Looks like you've fallen off a very tall cliff and hit every type of debris on the way down." She moved a lock of hair out of her own eyes, smirking to herself.

"Guess I always look terrible," Remy muttered humorously. As an afterthought, he added, "An' dat ain't very funny." He tried to keep a straight face as long as he could, but eventually ended up chuckling himself. The effects of whatever the shocker was were finally wearing off.

"You don't always look terrible, Gambit. I've seen you when you haven't been a complete mess, remember?"

"Jus' dat first time. Why you never visit me until I get in trouble, eh?"

"I guess that's just how things work. You seem to attract trouble. A lot of it." Well, she had that much correct about him. "Were you this trouble prone before you were caught and placed in here?" she asked curiously.

He chuckled softly at her question. While he might not have gotten to as much trouble day after day outside of the prison like this, he wasn't new to the concept. "I wasn't such a lucky man sometimes. Did get my fair share of bad happenin's."

"Old habits die hard for you then. I can relate. Well, a little bit anyway. I'm generally a bad planner—no matter what I plan it always goes tits up, just has to go wrong. Despite that, though, I still try to plan stuff out, and when it does go wrong it still surprises me."

"Ain't da plannin' dat my problem. Used t' be pretty good at dat." He smiled again, more at his thoughts than anything. "Not in here. Ain't got time for plannin', an' everyt'in' too unpredictable."

"I wouldn't say that everything in here is predictable. I mean, did you really think that it was going to be me coming in here to discipline you?" Raven asked with a smirk.

Remy threw her a sideways glance. "Di'n't say it was predictable," he said, a smile on his face. First of all, he wondered how she had mistaken unpredictable for predictable; his accent was that heavy. Secondly, she was still using the word "discipline," despite the fact that nothing along those lines was even happening.

"Sorry, could have sworn you said something else. I think I blame that accent of yours and the fact that I'm not even from this side of the globe."

"My accent ain't dat bad," Remy defended in an offended tone.

"To you maybe. But not to a gal who was born and raised in England," she responded with a shake of her head.

"Alright, fine. You win wit' dat one, chere," he allowed. "Ya do got one damn good American accent, though. A less traveled man woul'n't notice."

"You think I've got an American accent? Now that's a first. Though I guess my accent doesn't really stand out too much, really. It's not like a talk like a posh and that. Guess I've got to use English slang for you to notice, huh?"

Remy shook his head before resting it against the wall. "Nah." He stayed silent for a little while then before looking over at her, tilting his head to the side. "You really don't have anyt'in' better den t' babysit me?" He should have considered himself lucky, but he only found it amusing.

"Right at this moment I'm supposed to be dealing with you. Just happen to be dealing with you in a completely different sort of way. Either way I'm with you at the moment." She leaned her head lightly against his shoulder then.

Remy gave a soft smile. "Deal wit' me how?" he asked her, setting his hand on her leg. "You got one promise out o' me, sure, but dat it."

"Well, I didn't mean a bad type of dealing with you. At least not with regarding to right now. I'm just dealing with you by keeping you company is all." She lifted her head again with a small chuckle.

"Den I glad for it," he replied honestly. Normally he didn't mind being alone, but this place had a habit of hurting him in all sorts of different ways already. He yawned, but cut it short with the deep breath pained him. "Been alone for too long. Glad for da comp'ny, chere."

"One piece of advice I can give you about this place," she said, turning more serious. "Don't have yourself any attachments. Weaknesses are always found and they will be used against you." This once warning was probably the most truthful thing that she had said to him. It, alone, gave him a chill.

"No attachments," he repeated in a whisper, his mind flashing to Chiyo. She was the reason he was in this room with Raven right now. If he ever saw her again, he wondered what might happen. "Dat prob'ly some good advice, eh? Don't t'ink dat be much o' a problem," he assured her with his normal voice, removing his mind from the subject.

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is rather good. Just whether you can stick to that advice though. Then again, looking at you—well, when you're not bruised and battered—you do come across as a heart breaker." She turned her head to look at him, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Don't be too full o' yo'self," Remy smirked once her speech broke. Once he let that comment sink in, he continued to comment about the rest of what she said: "Jus' lookin' at me you t'ink dat, chere?" He was glad that he could actually move around without much throbbing over his body anymore. As he was feeling better, his energy was coming back as well.

"What can I say? You just seem like that type of guy. As in you know you're good looking, you know that you could probably get any woman that you want." Remy's mind briefly flashed to Rogue, whom he'd forgotten about under his sorrows in the prison. "But at the same time there's none of that commitment crap, leaving girls behind before they've even realized that they're no longer a blip on your radar. 'Course when that happens, it leaves behind some fool with a broken heart."

Remy was left speechless for a moment. Did she get all of that on speculation or did she do some major homework? "You got me all figured out, eh, chere?" He couldn't tell her how much what she said was true, and he certainly couldn't let it show. "Maybe you right, maybe you wrong. Da trut' you might never know, ney?"

"Well, that's true." She nodded, either accepting that as it was, or coming up with some consolation in her mind. "Unless of course you were to actually tell me yourself what you're like. Not that I can even imagine you giving in. The one major truth I know is that you're rather stubborn." She let out another chuckle.

"Me? A stubborn person?" he asked incredulously. "Don' know if I go as far t' say dat, but you right on me not sayin' what I really like." He leaned over, sliding carefully down the wall, ignoring the small twinges the movement brought him. "I t'ink dat somet'in' dat you have t' figure out on your own, chere." He added a wink to the end of the sentence to punctuate it. Even though he now knew who she was, it didn't faze him much. He did want to see her again, especially when he wasn't in such a bad state.

"You're a male, aren't you?" she inquired rhetorically. "That gives you automatic stubbornness.

"You feeling any better now that you've had a chance to rest up?" she asked him, ending that conversation.

"If you mean dat I can prob'ly stand up now, den oui."

"If I leave you now, do you think you can stay out of trouble for a few minutes and not get beaten by the other guards?" She rose to her feet, looking down at him.

"Sure hope so," Remy replied playfully. "Au revoir?"

Raven tossed him a friendly smile, turning her back on him. Making her way to the door, she knocked softly on it so that the guard would let her out. As soon as she disappeared, the two guards from earlier came in to bring Remy away. They didn't handle him so nicely.


	7. Chapter 7

It took a long while for the guards to trust Remy to carry out the simplest of deeds after his last visit with Raven. Remy could sense their tension every time he was dragged off to the mess hall to eat. Other than that, he had to stay in his cell and wasn't allowed anywhere else. No gym, no socialization … nothing. While being a dangerous character in normal prisons might have a positive effect, it made Remy's life even more miserable. Constant beat-down such as this was new territory to the Cajun, and he was already having trouble with keeping his spirits high. He hadn't experienced the worst of it yet.

Guards walked up to his door, catching his attention. Snapping his eyes up from the wall, he adjusted them from staring off into space to studying the guards' body language. They were tense, but he didn't see any open hostility. In comparison to the past couple weeks, that was new.

"Don't try to struggle," he was commanded. Remy raised an eyebrow, but didn't verbally respond; his expression said it all. The man got in close, shackles in hand, but that wasn't unexpected. A few of his comrades stood at the door, there to assure that Remy wouldn't try anything funny, yet he came up to the unpredictable prisoner alone. The cool metal around his wrists, his hands behind his back, the soldier motioned for Remy to stand by tugging gently on his arm. Remy complied, believing that they were taking him to the mess hall, having a complete loss of time after being in the prison for so long.

Remy took one step before he felt a cool needle puncture through his skin and into his muscle. Startled more than anything, Remy thrashed away from the acute stab, stumbling to the wall of the room. "Da _fuck!"_ he cried. "Di'n't know it was time fer my meds."

The guard capped the syringe he used, sticking it back in the pocket he had fished it out of. "Settle down, inmate," he nearly grinned. "Faster you work yourself up, the fast it works."

"Say what?" Remy snapped, though much more weakly than before.

"Sit," the guard suggested humorously.

"I ain't no … dog." Without willing to, Remy dropped to his knees, having felt the effect of the drug coursing through his system. Within a couple more heartbeats, he fell completely to the floor, out of it enough to allow the guards to drag him through the hallways.

Remy drifted in and out of consciousness, though even when his eyes were open his brain wasn't recording any of the information. He might have babbled nonsense to the men transporting him roughly through the prison, but he wouldn't be able to recall it.

The first thing he remembered at all was that he woke up, while still groggy, in a big, plain room. The walls were as insignificant as anywhere else in the whole building. It was as cold in this room as his cell and just as uncomfortable. The only difference was that he could move around into a more passable position while locked behind bars; here, Remy couldn't even wiggle his wrists. His brain unable to make the connections, he dropped his head from the chair's headrest onto his chest. "Oh," he grunted upon seeing the leather straps, holding him in place.

He couldn't comprehend anything, even if he saw it. His little eureka moment with the straps didn't make much sense to him, despite his verbal exclamation, but they were there. If something was there, therefore it was. That drab, flat surface standing erect in front of him, that was a wall. Right beside Remy, he could see another chair in his peripheral. Someone was sitting in that chair, but the Cajun couldn't make out any details. He was still working on his motor functions.

A little frustrated, but unsure as to why, Remy decided that if he stood up, it would help. He had enough of sitting on his bottom for the time being. To start off, he tried picking up his hand from the chair's arm. It wouldn't move. His brows pulling together out of genuine confusion, Remy stole another glance at his arm. That same strap was preventing him from moving. It hadn't changed positions at all. It was a very persistent strap of leather.

He was tied down, but it didn't occur to him—at least not at first—that he wouldn't be able to move. Never mind the fact that his muscles still weren't responding correctly.

"Where'm-ah?" Remy asked aloud. If he couldn't move, he could try talking. The choice was obvious, after all. And lo and behold! His voice actually worked, and it sounded perfectly find. He might not understand the purpose of the chair beneath him, but words were perfectly natural. He continued rambling on in his head, believing that the words were filling the room, but was completely lost.

And then, something completely out of the ordinary occurred. A sound answered his initial question. Remy had long since forgotten about his demand. "I … I dunno," the voice responded.

Remy's eyes opened wide as a gasp escaped from his mouth. He never expected for a sound to originate from anything. He could barely grasp the concept of sight, let alone a new sensory function. While one part of Remy's brain tried to get a handle on that, another part sifted through the spoken words, trying to connect it with the sluggish dictionary. It was a very hard task. The only thing that made sense at all was "I."

The chore proved fruitless. He eventually gave up on the daunting job and switched back to studying the room. While he couldn't file the information away for later use, he could still marvel at its aesthetic beauty. The walls were textured, but that was too much to take in. Remy's mind switched gears again. The walls were gray. See, now gray was something he could work with.

Leaning against the bindings across his chest, Remy's eyes fell on an opening in the wall. It was a door, but alas, that was too much to ask for from his drugged mind. Over there, the color was much different from the color straight in front of him. Yet, he knew on some level that it was the exact same color: gray.

Remy shook his head, having come upon another horrific brain chore. He leaned back against the back of the chair, thinking about nothing at all. When his eyes caught on the door again, he thought once more about it. Something significant would happen in that hole in the wall. Something interesting would happen. It had to. Every instinct in Remy's body screamed that that hole served a special purpose.

"Can someone hear me?"

It was that voice again. Remy had forgotten all about it until it decided to fill the room. It was enough to give Remy a headache. But … through the imagined throbbing, Remy could understand the words. He understood!

"Oui," he retaliated proudly. The response had probably taken him minutes, but it was the beginnings of a conversation. He was as proud of himself as a mother was of her firstborn child speaking his first word.

Remy's head swiveled to study the man that had decided to talk to him. They were having a conversation, after all. He needed to identify who it was. He knew that he knew this man, but he didn't know who it was. Everything was completely illogical.

Closing his eyes, opening them again, Remy hoped that it would give him better vision or insight. No such luck. He tried again. Nothing. He repeated the movement rapidly, but it was only intensifying the headache. Where had the headache originated?

"Gambit," Remy continued. The break in his speech made absolute and complete sense, though it must have spanned over a couple more minutes. First he answered the question, and then he offered his name so that the stranger could comprehend what was going on. It was a very friendly gesture.

The other man nodded. Remy didn't know what a nod meant, exactly, but he understood that it was positive. Positive was a good thing. It must mean a compliment, then, because compliments were good. Remy tossed him a friendly smile before swinging his head in the direction of the mysterious door.

That door was even more weird when it swung completely opening, causing the wall to be discontinuous. There was a big hole now. And through that hole walked another man. The man was walking—free. This other man and Remy were prisoners to a chair. The chair would not let him stand up.

"My name … name is … Scott. Scott Summers," the strapped man explained. He was speaking too fast! Remy tried over and over again to make it all straight, make it so that it was in a line, but he made it curvy and wrong. His name was Scott Summers, but that was unorthodox in Remy's world. Remy was Gambit. Simply Gambit. Nothing else. Gambit.

More silence filled the room. Remy preferred this over his throbbing brain. He smiled happily to himself, though he forgot why as soon as his muscles carried out the action.

"…Gambit?" More talking. Remy became slightly irritated at the other man's persistence. "…what's your _name?"_ So much emphasis now, it must mean anger. Remy cringed, but then couldn't remember why. Gambit was his name, after all, and this man had just said it. And maybe, if he was to call Gambit Gambit, then Remy should call him Scott. That was why he said it twice, correct? And it was in answer to Remy's Gambit.

Things were starting to fall into place. This game of Tetris was on level easy, but Remy couldn't place the bricks in time. "My name? Gambit. Gambit," he repeated. It continued in a mean sort of chant through his head, but stopped short when he realized he was also called something else. Gambit was what he was called, but maybe the other name wasn't his real name. He'd give that one instead. "Remy," he crowed before he could even think about it. "Remy LeBeau." Now that one just rolled off the tongue, much better than Gambit ever did. Gambit was harsh whilst Remy LeBeau was … adjectives were beyond him. Things just were.

Scott's eyes were fixated on the intruder. He was wearing a blazing white coat, so different from the gray walls. He didn't appear to be paying much attention to Scott and Remy, but Scott's face suggested that he was worried. Remy could read that emotion right on Scott's face. Something had to trigger his worry, yet Remy couldn't connect the dots. The dots were little butterflies floating through the air. Why? Because they could be.

"Well, Remy," Scott began. Remy's mind jumped off of a butterfly's back, his eyes focused on Scott's face. He was strapped in a chair, too. Should Remy be worried as well? "Nice to meet you. Just wish it wasn't here."

Now why would he say such a funny thing like that? They'd met before, Remy was sure of it.

The white-coated man had a needle-like object sticking in a jar of liquid. The physics of it fascinated the Cajun. The liquid was actually moving, too. Remy was torn between deciding whether it was a good idea to ask this man his name or to ignore him or act worried like Scott. He decided against the first choice, because he thought that this place he was in was bad, though he didn't see any reason behind it. He just picked up on that idea, almost as if the idea was from nowhere. If this place was a bad place where some bad things happened, perhaps this man was a bad person, too. Scott couldn't be bad; Remy knew him.

That decision over with, Remy's mind skipped back to what Scott had said. It wasn't too hard to recall the words now. "Oui," he said, blinking. "Same to you, mon ami." He grinned broadly, almost alarmingly. It was the right thing to do. He had come up with a coherent sentence, after all. He needed to praise himself.

Scott didn't have time to think over an answer. His minutes were up, because that white-coated man decided to speak in Scott's stead. Remy was right in thinking he was a bad person. Only a bad person would interrupt such an intimate conversation like Scott's and Remy's.

"Don't worry, you two. This'll only sting like hell." The man's eyes darted between Scott and Remy, an evil glint to them. Remy didn't even know what evil was, but he knew what hell was. Hell was the place he was going when he died because he was a thief. It wasn't a religion or belief, it was fact.

Remy sat calmly while he tended to Scott, sifting his words through his head. He'd focused too much on hell. Now he needed to recall the rest. Only when he turned around to treat Remy did he grasp the full meaning of his words. For the first time since waking up, fear gripped him. That, somehow, managed to clear his mind like wind clears away fog. It was a good defense mechanism, if he didn't say so himself.

"Well, Gambit got a t'ing 'gainst pain," he said, smiling sheepishly. "Can I skip it dis time?" His grin widened, as if his disgruntled charm alone would save him from the same fate as Cyclops. He knew that he had known that man. Except—he wasn't quite the same man, because he actually _smiled_ at Remy. It must have been the only smile Remy had ever seen on his face.

"Sorry," the experimenter apologized. Not a wisp of sincerity coincided with his word.

"Sorry?" Remy repeated skeptically. "If you truly sorry, wouldn't ya make like a pal an' release us instead o' playin' doctor?"

The man must not have actually tended to Scott, as Remy first thought, because he turned around to see him again, the syringe actually in hand this time. Remy could see Scott thrashing against his bindings behind the scientist's body, causing a chill to wind down his back. Scott then let out one grunted and was stilled.

"Not this time … Remy," the man then continued, turning to the Cajun.

"You got no right callin' me dat!" Remy snarled, struggling against his own straps. He had completely forgotten that he had given his full name to Scott in their daze. He'd been trying to keep his real name more or less hidden from the facilitators.

The man took one step forward, and Remy calmed instantly. Jumping to another topic, he tried worming his way out of the situation. Some had called him a silver-tongued devil during his life. "Dis time? Dat mean der gonna be a next time? I get t' pass on dat one?" He tried to put humor on his voice, but with one look at the drugged Scott, he utterly failed in that category. All that showed through was his fear—actual fear, too—of whatever was in that syringe.

"We'll see," the scientist then replied, closing the distance between the needle tip and Remy's skin. Remy's bare skin. Throughout the whole ordeal, he hadn't even noticed that he was shirtless.

He felt a piercing pain as the needle entered his neck. It was a much stronger reaction in that more sensitive area than, say, the shoulder area. As the man release the serum into Remy's bloodstream, Remy could feel the sickly cold spread through his body. Every new area it reached, it brought more pain. Though Remy felt as if he were on fire, he didn't cry out. He probably couldn't have screamed in pain even if he would allow himself to.

And then the pain dissipated.

Everything was fine. The cold was welcoming, inviting. It made everything much easier. Everything was simple. Everything was fine. Everything was very fine, thank-you. Come again another day, and he might feel like talking. Right now, Remy would much rather enjoy the realm of his mind.

He slid in and out of consciousness, the scientist all the while jotting notes on to a clipboard. This experiment was older, but these subjects were newer to the whole idea of experimentation. Over time, they might learn. Perhaps the scientist would never give them the chance.


	8. Chapter 8

Remy had absolutely no recollection of his time in the experimentation chambers. Whenever he slept at night afterwards, he had terrible dreams of what his mind had suppressed, but nothing in his waking memory. He understood that he was acting slightly different, and he certainly noticed that time had passed, but he couldn't begin to remember exactly what was troubling him. He was losing sleep at night, his body ached, but he couldn't heal. He often woke himself at night with an unfamiliar cry, something he couldn't express whilst under the influence of the drugs. Yet whenever he tried to think back to the reason behind his sudden awakening, it wouldn't come to him. And his troubled mind wouldn't allow him back to sleep again.

The guards were noticing the change in him. A few of them carried themselves in a smugger manner, feeling no more fear for the once highly dangerous prisoner that struck out at random times. A couple of them shied away from him, expecting an outburst even more violent and deadly from him in the near future. Quite a few of them, whom didn't see Remy as often, jeered at him as if he were some degenerate animal in a zoo. Remy might have cared before the blank in his memory, but he shrugged it off now, unwilling to give them the attention they sought out. First he needed to find himself completely and wholly before he could become some sort of nuisance again.

Besides the guards, no one cared at all. Remy didn't get a second glance from anyone. He wasn't part of the X-Men anymore—he didn't think anyone could be a part of that alliance in any technical manner anymore—so he shouldn't have expected any consoling. Yet a part of him wanted human comfort no matter the cost. It was a more or less alien feeling.

The only time he had felt this depressed before was when he was carrying out Sinister's evil deed. That was a part of the past, but it still haunted him to this day. All he had to turn back to was his thieving life, but he couldn't do that now. He had absolutely _nothing_ to make him feel remotely good about himself anymore, and he didn't even know what he had done in the first place. He didn't know what had been done to him.

Perhaps he would never know, either. It didn't make the situation any better.

Raven never showed up. Apparently she would only show her face a second, third or fourth time if Remy found himself in deep shit. This hole didn't count. Then again, perhaps that now he had carried out his promise to her—he would play the part of a good boy now—she had no more interest in him. She did tell him straight up that she enjoyed the company of a risk taker. That term no longer described the Cajun. He was just as beaten as those around him, all in a short time.

Or long time. Remy understood that he had a gap in his timeline, but he couldn't figure out how precisely long he had been out of commission.

The days blurred by. Remy didn't care enough to let the guards get to him, and didn't care so much about his task. He had almost forgotten it in its entirety. He knew now that he couldn't let false hopes get to him. They were toying with him before. After becoming the true convict he was meant to be, they showed him what he was useful for. Something. Something that Remy didn't care to figure out.

Whenever the prisoners were allowed that short window of period to do whatever they wanted after or during their mess hall time, Remy stayed put on a bench, tray before him. Just like when he first arrived, he picked at his food. Except this time he was simply disinterested in it, not disgusted of it. He often went days without eating a lick of the slop, instead dumping it in a waste bin. No one came up to him to ask for it, but he would have noticed a couple people eyeing it hungrily. They obviously weren't broken yet. Not in the least bit. Remy didn't care to warn them of their impending doom.

Everything was the same to him now. Day, night, it didn't matter. He had this haunted feeling in the deep pits of him. He was losing his figure to a gaunt and dark skeleton, but he didn't notice. Not at all.

One day stuck out from the rest. Some primal drive forced him to his feet that one day, and he exited the mess hall to the hallways. Since the first time in his months, weeks, _years—_ Remy didn't know—at the prison, he found his feet carrying him to the outside area. The breath of fresh air allowed him to think a little more straightly.

He took one step out into the sunny atmosphere and stopped. He hadn't see sun since the day he had been ambushed. Already it was some sort of foreign idea to him. It was unnatural in comparison to the friendly gloom of the hallways. It wanted to banish his darker thoughts, replace them with the glaring pain in his eyes. Pain was better than nothing, was it not?

Remy took a couple more steps into the narrow confines. He was almost completely trapped in this tiny yard. The chain link walls were at least three times his height, though most likely more. The tops of the fencing ended in nasty razor wire which appeared to be strung in a much more confusing manner than the conventional prison. The width of Remy's little yard was about twice his breadth, though passably twenty yards in length. The ground was still concrete, but the playful sun from above had warmed it up to a welcoming temperature. Remy could feel it under his feet. It was a nice contrast from his refrigerated cell.

"Dey call dis outside?" Remy found himself asking. It was possibly the first sentence he had spoken since his nightmares had begun. The atmosphere alone was almost enough to throw the darker thoughts aside, even if temporarily.

It didn't matter if the prisoner yard was small or not; it was a reprieve. Walking slowly toward the end of the fence, Remy leaned against the links, looking out to the other side. There wasn't much to see. Another dark and ominous wall jutted into the sky, blocking off all connections to the outside world. More razor wire lined the top of the stone bricks, signaling that the structure was indeed a prison. It was simply a prison off the charts to hide the fact that it was harboring an army of mutants, beaten down until they no longer had a will to live. That was all.

More thoughts swirled around Remy's mind. He didn't find these weighing heavily on his shoulders like the ones previous, but they weren't uplifting, either. All they did was allow the time to pass on without any affect.

Remy's chain of thought was soon broken, however. A few loud footsteps broke into Remy's reprieve, followed by a harsh clatter of the chain fence. A body had been thrown rather roughly into the mesh. Such a thing was normal, now, and Remy didn't bother with looking at who it could be. Why should he care about such a thing anyway?

"Remy?"

This one, lone word made Remy pause in his breath. It wasn't spoken harshly at all, but very softly and calmly. He knew that voice, once upon a time. This voice belonged to one of the very few people who could actually talk to him when he was in a sour mood. He didn't ever want to hear her voice here.

Regaining control over his emotions—something he hadn't had to do in the recent past—Remy pushed himself away from the fence and slowly turned around. His mind was playing tricks on him now. The nightmares weren't enough. It would now throw him voice of beloved figures to torture him further. This was a trick, all a trick.

Yet his eyes didn't fail him. She was standing there, too, on the other side of the fence. She had her own separate yard to keep them apart. One prisoner per yard, perhaps? Was this some sort of unspoken rule?

"Stormy?" He couldn't believe it. It was too good to be true. He was selfish to think such a thing, but he couldn't rationalize otherwise. Besides Wolverine, this was the first person he recognized from the X-Men that he had scene, Cyclops haven been forgotten in his drugged stupor.

Knowing on a subconscious level that he looked terrible and abused, he forced a friendly smile on his face anyway. He needed to show his friend that he was alive and well, even if the latter was debatable. "Long time no see, eh?" He needed to keep the conversation light for his own sake. He needn't bog his friend down with his own worries and pains.

The two of them walked up to the fence separating them. Remy stopped short of touching it whilst Ororo leaned fully against it. She brought her cuffed hands up to shoulder level to rest upon. A sad smile crossed her face despite herself, though it was quickly hidden. Her hair was messed up in tangles, dirt streaked across her face. A haunted look hid in her eyes, and Remy was sure that his face mirrored it.

"Long time," she agreed heavily, leaning even more on the fence. A woman once so very proud was broken before Remy's eyes. It struck him then and there that that was how people would see him. "Are you alright?"

Remy didn't know why she asked. She could have seen that he wasn't right. He wasn't holding himself with confidence; his face didn't have the teasing look it took on when he was around her. He was broken, just like her.

"Am I alright?" Remy echoed. "Do I look bad?" He didn't need to hear her say yes. Hearing such a confirmation might hurt him more than anything. Thankfully Ororo had her usual tact to keep silent. "I'm more worried 'bout you. You don't look too good." So Remy didn't have it quite as well as his friend. What he really need, however, was to feel that he was still worth something. Fussing over a sisterly figure just might help him out in that respect. He was clutching at straws.

"I am alive and whole," she replied. For their situation, it was quite the appropriate one.

"Alive an' whole, sure," Remy said slowly. "But how's it goin' in da head, eh?" He reached his hand through one of the holes in the links, though only his fingers could make it. Reaching toward her, trying to comfort her, the only thing he could really touch was her chin. She leaned into his touch, most likely unconsciously, and let out a little sigh.

She didn't respond to his second question, but quickly changed the subject. While she wasn't obviously uncomfortable about it in her face, her actions spoke otherwise. "Have you seen any of the others? The only one I have seen is Wolverine."

"I seen a few people. Only recognized Logan, though." He dropped his hand, leaning against his side of the fence. He never took his eyes off of Storm. "Sure der more people here. We can' be da only X-Men."

"I have heard of some of the other prisoners, but I have not seen many. They have been keeping me apart from the others." She lifted her eyes to him, catching his own eyes. "The less of us here, the better, in my opinion."

She was right, of course. The other X-Men shouldn't have to endure this pain that everyone here were experiencing. Remy never thought that most of everyone could get away from the government's greasy grip, but it was a much brighter outlook than what he had been anticipating.

"Who you heard of?" Remy asked after a couple of seconds.

"I have no recognized any of the voices I have heard," Ororo answered. That was a rather strange response, if Remy didn't say so himself.

"Why dey keepin' you apart?" he inquired with slightly more empathy. This could turn out to be crucial information later on.

"I can only guess. This is also the first time that they let me out of the prison."

Let her, she said. She didn't have the same freedoms that Remy was experiencing. He vaguely wondered why the prison would treat two thieves so differently, but the thought process didn't go far. Perhaps they figured that Ororo was more dangerous due to her reputation with the X-Men. Gambit was a low man on the totem pole in their eyes. He didn't know and he didn't plan on investigating.

"My guess is they are trying to find the others and want information on how to find them," she continued. "You are not as closely tied to them as I am." Remy thought that her statement was a little unfair, due to his sketchy history, but he didn't comment on it. "That and I have tried escaping a couple times now. Once with Logan's help." As soon as that information was out of her lips, a noticeable wince twitched across her body. Remy couldn't say that he could relate or anything.

"I tried escapin' a couple'a times, too," Remy said conversationally. A rueful smile threatened to show, but it was suppressed.

"I would not expect anything less from you," Storm commented with a shadow of a smile. "You not trying to escape would cause me worry." Remy almost smiled at this comment as well, but a darker thought was floating around his head.

"Ain't doin' it no more," he added with resolve. He shook his head. "T'ink I gonna start cooperatin' wit' dem now."

"What did they do to you?" Ororo asked. Her voice changed dramatically from somewhat playful to deeply concerned. She knew Remy enough to know that giving up wasn't often in his nature.

Remy wasn't sure if he should lie or not. He could tell her that it was all a part of some ploy and that he had a plan at hand. That was something akin to what he had done in his past. But that was so far from the truth, it was laughable. He was done with their shit; he was done with the constant pain, and on more than one level. They had found out how to get to him, even if Remy didn't know what they had done in the first place.

"I can' stand da pain no more, chere," he admitted softly and sadly. His voice shook and he lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "Dey … dey done somet'in' dat haunts me … jus' as bad as if I did somet'in' terrible."

"That has not stopped you before," she pointed out, and it was true. Remy had sought out pain before for the betterment of the X-Men. He had worked through pain so often that whatever was done shouldn't bother him in the slightest. Yet there was something about this place that made it even worse. Perhaps it was the prolonged exposure to the abuse.

"But, I understand what you are saying. It is hard to keep hope when the guards seem to try their best to beat it out of you. I have also seen how the guards look at us. It is not welcoming at all."

Remy sighed deeply, refusing to look back up. "Dis diff'rent." He didn't want to elaborate or get into his feelings of discomfort. Instead, he jumped upon the chance to get the subject away from him and onto the subject of the guards yet again. It felt safer.

"Not welcomin' most da time. Da other time, I jus' don' wanna be 'round 'em."

"Cannot blame you for not wanting to be around them. They make me uncomfortable at times myself." Looking at her, Remy believed that that could have been the understatement of the year.

"Dey sure do like makin' us uneasy, n'est-ce pas?" He forced a smile, not for his sake, but hers.

She nodded at his comment and shifted her position. Instead of making herself more comfortable, she succeeded in the exact opposite. She arched her back out of habit, crying out in pain. She managed to keep her voice quiet, but that didn't lessen the impact it had on Gambit.

Suddenly on the lookout, he glanced around the cage for signs of danger, but saw none. Once he was sure the two of them were still safe, he shifted his red-on-black eyes back to her. "Stormy? What happened?"

She stayed silent for a while as she tried to compose herself. Remy could see her fighting to put on a mask, even for him. A grim look crossed his face as he thought about the reasons as to why. The two of them normally didn't hide much from each other, considering how they met and their pasts. Remy's was slightly more malignant, of course, but that didn't change the fact that they were both thieves.

"I was caught trying to escape recently and they decided to discipline me for it. A scab pulled away and started bleeding is all," she reasoned with him. The tightness to her voice, as well as the strained expression told Remy volumes more. A little pain wouldn't bother her just as much as it wouldn't bother him. Remy knew her to be one of the strongest ladies he had ever met, and in more ways than one.

Even though he didn't believe her, he played along with it. He wouldn't smother her. "Dey always decide t' discipline ya for it," he told her softly. In his experience it wasn't exactly the truth, since Raven tended to be his disciplinary, but he wouldn't say this to her. "You ain't gettin' out on yer own, Ororo." He rarely, if ever, used her real name. He always insisted upon calling her Stormy, despite the fact that she despised the nickname.

He leaned in close, resting his forearms against the chain link fence. "Keep it low an' plan somet'in' thoroughly, eh?" he suggested. He had never taken the advice himself, but once again, that was beside the point. He looked over her face for any type of reaction or any other masked emotion. "You sure you okay?" If she didn't play off of this question, he'd let it drop. Otherwise, he'd be there for her just like she had always been there for him.

"Logan was with me when I tried last time," she confided in him. Her voice was a little distant, her eyes focused on something far away. "They made punishing me part of his punishment." She flicked her cool blue eyes onto him.

Remy gasped a sharp intake of air, but smothered all other thoughts from his face. The bastards would try such a cowardly thing to tame the wild animal they had in their pen. Wolverine could take as much pain as they dished out to him. He had the beast side to turn to when his humanistic tolerance failed. But using _Storm_ to bait him into being compliant …

Some very bad things could happen very quickly.

"If you're asking if they tried raping me, the answer is no," Storm continued, breaking through to Remy through his barricade of thoughts. His eyes snapped back to her. She wasn't lying or covering anything up this time around.

Anything else the pair might have wanted to throw out into the open would have to wait. A guard appeared at Storm's door, eyeing up the close proximity between her and Remy. An evil glint passed through his eye, suggesting terrible things, but he didn't comment on it.

Feeling a little rushed, Remy reached his fingers through the links again. "Keep up your hope, chere," he commented softly. He realized how hypocritical the statement was, seeing as he was preaching the exact opposite not too long ago, but he was hoping Ororo wouldn't notice. "Somet'in' good gonna come outta dis mess, even if it happen t' be death as escape in da end." Bright and cheery words for a bright and cheery day.

Remy then pushed himself casually away from the metallic wall before the guard could chide him about it.

A few more guards materialized behind the first guard before he decided to even say a word. "Time to go, weather witch," he commented crudely. "Your new cell is waiting for you."

Remy wrinkled his nose in a half-assed snarl, but didn't feel like it was his place to jump in. Ororo had already been beaten because of one man's mistakes. Remy didn't need her pain to be on his consciousness as well.

Remy eyed the guard as he strode closer to Ororo until he was within touching distance. Remy tensed up for a fight despite himself, but still didn't point out the fact that he was standing right there. He needed to keep Ororo safe, not the other way around.

"You _are_ a pretty one, aren'tcha?" the man commented. He lifted his hand up, not to stroke her dirt smeared face, but to grab her around one forearm. She didn't fight back, but his touch began even rougher until he was nearly dragging her across the ground.

"'Ey!" he shouted. He hadn't meant to interfere at all, but a man had to draw a line somewhere. Stepping forward, he roughly grabbed the chain link fence, shaking it out of his sudden rage. "Pretend like ya care for a momen' an' be nice t' her! No matter what you t'ink we are, we ain't da animals. You are, treatin' us like dis!"

It must have been the first verbal argument he made against the guards in a long time.

Instead of being offended or scared in the least bit, the guard actually chuckled at Remy. "The way you men are so defensive of her makes me wonder just how good this one is in bed. Too bad one of the big shots wants her for himself, otherwise I would see just how good she is." Remy didn't get the chance for a real reply. He shoved Storm right through the door and disappeared with his pack.

"'Ey!" Remy shouted uselessly. "'Ey! You don't touch a hair on 'er head, maudite vache! Don't you touch 'er! She ain't no toy." The last sentence was stated with a snarl and in a lower tone. His face hardened in a contemptuous look. He couldn't give up yet; Ororo needed him. The other prisoners needed him.

He took his time in calming down again. After the initial fit of rage no longer suited the situation, he paced around the tiny yard, breathing deeply. The prison wouldn't have it so easy with him. He wouldn't bow down and die on them. Fuck Raven, fuck his promise—the fuckers would get what they deserve, all in due time. Ororo, a highly claustrophobic woman, did not deserve this confinement or treatment. Perhaps Remy did, in his own mind, but that meant nothing in the larger scope of things.

People might die.

Remy didn't care if it was he, as long as the other mutants were safe.

He strode confidently down the dark hallway—a stark contrast to the environment he had just left. His steps were sure and firm, and while his face was set in a tough expression, it wasn't only from making a heavy decision. His crimson eyes still burned with rage upon seeing his friend abused. The bodily harm he received in his days while imprisoned were one thing; he could take such punishment after having done so for a large part of his life. For some reason, seeing the abuse to another body had a whole other affect on the Cajun.

Without even thinking, still smoldering in his anger, Remy's feet steered him to the gym. While Remy had a nice body, one which he wasn't afraid to show off in the right circumstances, he hadn't gone off to the gym in his stay in the prison in a long time. Normally he had provoked some sort of fight, rendering him unable to exercise. For the first time in a while, he wasn't aching for some reason or another.

Remy's anger was stopped in his tracks as soon as he realized he wasn't seething in private any longer. The initial shock of another presence in the gym spurred thought process, enabling him to take more deep breaths and calm, if only temporarily.

"Uh, hey der," Remy supplied after a long pause. A short woman and man of average height were standing together, staring at him. If he wasn't mistaken, he had seen the pair before, even if they had been in costume at the time. Dagger was the woman, he believed, and if that was Dagger, Cloak came along with her. He shouldn't have been surprised to find the vigilantes locked up inside. When neither of them answered verbally—Dagger had positioned herself protectively in front of the man—Remy continued: "How's it goin' f'r you two? I haven't seen you 'round." For having such dark thoughts on mind, Remy could still make exceptional small talk.

The woman appeared to hesitate at first, as if debating whether or not Remy was the type of man she could trust with small talk. She never moved her position from in front of Cloak, but she did answer him. "It's going bad," she admitted with a wrenching sigh, "especially for Ty." She gestured over her shoulder at the man and then gave a shrug. "We keep our heads down; stay out of the way."

Remy studied then with the expertise of a man used to scrutinizing without giving anything away. Dagger wanted to trust him, it appeared, but he couldn't blame her for not going right out on a limb and befriending him right then and there. Remy didn't know the pair that well, but just knew of their reputation.

"Sorry t' hear dat," Remy sympathized. He switched his attention to reading the body language of the man behind her. Other than the fact that he was staring at Remy with just as dissecting of a gaze, Remy couldn't get much out of him. "He looks like he seen a ghost," he added for good measure. He did have a haunted feel about him, though it didn't take Remy much thought to guess as to why.

The girl harrumphed at Remy's friendly forwardness. "Ty has a unique bond with his powers. To have them taken away from him like that, it's quite a shock to him," Dagger explained in a low voice. She glanced over at the man as if to make sure he wouldn't beat her for such a comment.

"Sh-sh-she's right," Cloak affirmed with an awful stutter. His voice was just as beaten as his appearance, though he still held some fight in him. He tugged uselessly on the collar around his neck, but it didn't give from his efforts. "B-b-being here th-th-though, it's h-hard for everyone."

Remy couldn't help his reaction. He took in a sharp breath and jerked his eyes away before he could even stop himself. The man, despite the awful state he was in, spoke the truth on a level most prisoners tended to shy away from. Perhaps it was his jarring stutter that made it all the worse for Remy. The Cajun couldn't play the strong man as well as he could from the very beginning anymore. He was certainly feeling the effects of all the abuse and neglect.

As if trying to cover up his vulnerable moment, Remy flicked his eyes back onto the pair. "I'm Gambit," he greeted with a voice too forced. He held out his hand for the girl, believing that the man wouldn't feel like taking it. "And you are, chere?"

"I'm Tandy," she answered. She quickly took Remy's hand before letting go and introducing her pal. "This is Ty. We usually go by Cloak and Dagger."

At least she was truthful, Remy reflected. So far it wasn't much to go by, but she wasn't openly scorning the Cajun like half of the other prisoners in the place, not to mention all of the guards.

No one spoke for a moment, and since Remy didn't want the silence to continue, he decided he might as well comment on what Cloak said before. "Y'know, it _is_ hard for everyone." His muscles tensed at the thought of it and a passionate fire burned in his eyes. His spirit wasn't broken altogether. "Dey ain't go no right t' do dis t' us. Some time, dey gonna learn da consequences." His hands squeezed into fists and his eyes narrowed.

He suddenly felt himself wishing for the first time in months that he had his powers back. At first it was a great test to see if he could take care of himself without them, but now upon learning that he couldn't, he wanted them back. He wanted to wreak havoc, to create panic, and to restore confidence in his fallen comrades. Remy was tired of feeling so vulnerable without having much to fall back on to.

Once again, Remy had to switch off the anger floating right below the surface. He was riled up for a number of various reasons, but he couldn't lose his head. "Cloak an' Dagger." His knowledge turned out to be very limited about the pair. "Any reason why?" The names were intriguing, to say the least. He knew the phrase from which they were coined, but sometimes names were chosen for a more subliminal reason.

"It's because of our powers and the way we both operate," Tandy explained briefly. Remy saw the mistrust still present in her eyes, so he knew better than to press her. Besides, he got answer enough from the simple explanation as it was. "How about Gambit? That's a more unusual name than Cloak and Dagger." Touche, Remy thought.

"Gambit's unusual?" Remy smirked. For someone on the outside, he could see the reason why someone would think so. Still, he might as well play with her a little, if only to alleviate some of the problems he was dealing with. "Well, you know what a gambit is?" He didn't get a response from either of them. "It's a risk taken t' get an advantage. A gamble. Everyt'in' wit' me is a gamble."

"E-e-everything's a g-g-gamble?" Cloak asked. "Even t-trusting you?" Even through his broken speech, Remy could tell that the man didn't like the sound of it.

"Shush, Ty," Dagger countered against him. She gave him a slight slap on his arm. "I think he can be trusted." These words spoken, she rounded on Gambit with defiance in her eyes. They were almost daring him to prove her wrong, as if she didn't believe the words she used to calm her friend down.

Remy appreciated her halfhearted vote of confidence, but he felt like using the truth with these two was a good idea. "Sometimes," he answered Cloak. "Ya never trust a t'ief, former or current." He shrugged and moved to lean against a pole inside of the room. "Well, I woul'n't trust no one in dis place. Period."

"Th-thief?" Cloak confirmed suspiciously. He closed up a little then, recoiling slightly at the though. Dagger's eyes narrowed and her body language become more hostile. Obviously neither of them liked the idea of being in the presence of a thief.

At first, Remy appeared to be completely oblivious to their unconscious hostility. It wasn't his problem if they couldn't deal with the likes of him. At least he was affiliated with the X-Men before the whole fiasco and he was loyal to them. Despite popular belief, the X-Men really did strive for the betterment of not only mankind, but mutant-kind as well. For the most part, Remy's involvement with the Thieves' Guild was minimal.

"Oui, t'ief," Remy finally said as if challenging the black man. "I _was_ a t'ief, den I join da X-Men." He forced a smile to his face. "But I t'ink a t'ief would be useful in a place like dis, non?"

"So you r-r-reformed?" Ty asked. A look of approval crossed his features, as if such a thing was exactly what he wanted to hear.

Remy decided he better keep the actual truth locked away tight from these two. For all he knew, he needed them to trust him, and they obviously didn't associate with the likes of Remy. Good thing Remy's tongue was as smooth as the devil's when needed. "Oui. Guess you could say dat." Still, he didn't think he could flat-out lie to them. Devastating lies between inmates wasn't the best of ideas. "But once a t'ief, always a t'ief, n'est-ce pas?"

It wasn't the perfect situation, so Remy thought it would be better to change the topic of conversation.

"So how long ya been in dis Godforsaken place, eh?" Remy inquired. He thought it was better to alleviate some of the tension that he created. "Long?" This particular question probably wasn't the best way of going about it, but it was a little less personal for Remy. He was only one person against two.

Tandy didn't give Remy a verbal response for a while. He could see the gears and cogs working inside her brain as she most likely mulled over his history. What did it matter anyway? Even if his life revolved around thievery, he ended up in the same place as her and Ty: prison. In the eyes of the government, every one of them were criminals simply for being born with an extra gene in which they had no control over. Remy didn't have much control over his childhood, either, so why should he be persecuted for it?

"We've been here too long," she finally answered. "A few months I guess." She glanced back to Ty as if to confirm this. He nodded his head.

The two were probably around for just as long as Remy in this prison. He dropped his head for a moment and slid his back down the pole. Sitting on the cold, hard floor, he looked back up at Ty and Tandy. "You two stay wit' me here a li'l longer in dis place, we gonna get out. Dat much is certain, we jus' don' know when." He took a stabilizing breath. "Keep stayin' strong an' low."

In reality, Remy felt like he was speaking bullshit as the words came out of his mouth. His encounter with Storm was one thing, but talking certainties was a completely different animal. No one had the confidence to keep the others moving. No one stepped up and took Remy up under their wing, save for perhaps Raven. But Remy knew that Raven could and would turn on him any moment as her job called for it. If she no longer found the Cajun useful or amusing, he'd probably end up dead the next day. So Remy was there to hold these two mutants on his shoulders, hoping their alliance to him would pay off later on.

Dagger's eyebrows lifted out of curiosity. "You know of an escape attempt?" she asked him quietly. She glanced around nervously for fear of someone overhearing them, but the unmistakable spark of hope shone in her eyes. The idea of escape excited her more than it did Remy, because Remy knew it was nigh impossible. "Or are you being optimistic?" The sanguinity quickly faded at this new and intruding thought.

"I don't," Remy admitted. He buried his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead with the palms of his hands. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he met her eyes again. Her expression had fallen to the desperate tone it had before. "Not mass escape, anyway. Dough I, uh, incidentally sorta made an escape couple o' times b'fore. Still here, though." He rubbed his thumb down the side of his other hand. He watched the nervous gesture for a second. "But if der is one, I prob'ly be da first t' know, chere. I try t' make good relations wit' da people. Try t' unite 'em, ey?"

"How did you almost get out before?" she asked him.

"How?" Remy echoed. A ghost of a smile reemerged on his face, though he didn't feel any emotions behind the expression. "I ran, chere." Not all of his plans were elaborate. "Saw a way o' escapin' an' ran. Not da best way o' gettin' out o' here, but it da best I had."

He felt like a dog with its tail between its legs. After being abused, it knew when to shrink down. When the attention waved for a moment, it bolted. Remy was no better than a goddamn dog, and that didn't help his outlook any more than it already was.

"Not the most well thought-out escape plan, then," Tandy observed. Her disappointed look grew tenfold, causing Remy to feel like an ass for all the talk he was putting forth.

"Non, not t'ought out," Remy confirmed weakly. "But how you t'ink somet'in' out if you only got dat one time, ey?" It was a weak argument to defend himself, but he partially didn't think he deserved it.

Hell, thinking about it, he probably deserved every moment of this prison he was in. He'd made some very bad choices in his life, going to Sinister for help being only an example. He caused dozens—no, hundreds if not thousands—of people grief, pain, and death, and he got to walk Scott-free alongside the X-Men. It was no wonder some of them openly scorned him, especially upon learning his involvement with the Morlock Massacre. Now was the time karma was biting him in the ass. He deserved to be just as broken as all those he victimized, even if only unintentionally.

"I m-might be able to h-h-help in an escape."

Remy lifted his head and refocused his attention on Cloak. The man was cautious with his words, but he still couldn't eliminate his stutter. Tandy's reaction was of utter surprise, apparently at Cloak's openness towards Remy. Remy wasn't sure whether or not to feel honored at his misplaced trust or to be suspicious of his attempts.

"What?" Remy asked stupidly. He blinked and reiterated his question: "You might be able t' help?" He raised a brow in a silent way of asking 'how.' "Now, if we get dese collars of, what might you be able t' do?" Remy poked at the collar on his neck as if to make a point, but instantly regretted it. Now that he brought attention to its presence, he wouldn't be forgetting it any time soon. He always tried to pretend that he wasn't tied down like the dog he was.

The two mutants glanced at each other as if Dagger was trying to figure out Ty's plan. He gave a small nod of his head as if giving her permission for something. Remy looked between the two of them, utterly confused and left in the dark.

"Cloak's a teleporter," Tandy explained quietly. She edgily glanced around again.

A m-m-mass teleporter," Ty corrected. "Get th-this off and uh-uh-I can g-get a lot out of h-h-here."

Remy was temporarily shocked into silence. He was content with staying completely quiet with this new information so that he could mull it over, but both Cloak and Dagger were looking at him with something akin to expectance.

"Now, if I ever do figure out how t' get dese off o' us, I find you first," he promised. He couldn't even fathom a guess as how to get the buggers off yet. He couldn't exactly crane his neck to glance at the intricate technology that kept them activated and working and he certainly didn't have the time to study another prisoner's collar. Now he could spend energy thinking about that exact problem. "Dat alright wit' you?" Remy asked to confirm, hoping he wouldn't be stepping over any boundaries.

"You think you'll be able to do that?" Dagger asked. Remy couldn't help but thinking a little skepticism coated her voice. There were probably a multitude of reasons she could be skeptic, but it also meant she obviously didn't know him.

"It's o-o-okay w-with m-me," Cloak affirmed. Remy wondered why this man that could be quite foreboding if he tried would be placing so much trust in him. To throw things off of balance even more, Remy was a thief, and these two obviously didn't like thieves. "I d-don't think I c-can get everyone out th-though. The m-maximum I've d-d-done before was t-t-twenty."

"No more than twenty, though," Tandy said protectively. "Any more than that could hurt Ty. Could hurt the people travelling through his dark force, too." She turned to her friend. "And don't you argue, either. I don't want you getting hurt."

Remy nodded to himself, his eyes unfocusing as he thought. "If I can find someone who knows 'bout dese collars, den oui, I do t'ink I'll be able t' do it." He stood up from the floor and smiled. This time the smile was true. "An' twenty … twenty people more dan I could'a hoped for." If Remy was to orchestrate this all by himself, he probably wouldn't have been able to get that amount of people out. "Don' know how we gonna get so many people t'gether, but I t'ink da mess hall be da best place for groups, non?" He dropped his voice substantially as the plans became real. If the prison guards had some means of tracking down conspiracies, Remy didn't want to be persecuted more than he had to.

Tyrone offered his own little smile and nodded. "Th-the mess h-hall would be best," he agreed. "M-maybe get a distraction b-b-before? K-k-keep the g-guards away?"

At the thought of a distraction, Remy couldn't help but feel a little excited. He would have loved to provide the distraction himself, to beat some guards as badly as they did him, but Cloak would need him to free him of the collar. "For a distraction, I got an idea," Remy said matter-of-factly. He didn't say what it was exactly, but it was strong within his mind. The next time he saw Wolverine, Remy could ask if he would be willing to provide it, health status providing. Even if the adamantium poisoning was getting to him, or the wounds were building up, Remy knew that the man could switch to his animal side and inflict real damage.

"Oh? And wh-what p-plans that?" Ty asked.

"My plans?" Remy repeated with a smirk. "Jus' gonna call an ol' friend. I gonna owe 'im big if he do it."

"Sounds good," Tandy said. Remy thought the pain she was showing earlier was alleviated, though he wouldn't bet money on it. "Just let me and Ty know when and where. Right, Ty?" She glanced across at her friend.

"Right," he agreed.

"I worry about the rest, though," Tandy cut in thoughtfully. She leaned against a nearby wall and sighed to herself. "You know, the ones we can't break out. I'm sure the guards will be even worse."

Remy crossed his arms at her words. He knew that everyone was getting out, but that didn't stop him from planning this out with them. In fact, he figured that he'd stay behind with those that didn't get out, despite knowing the intense grief it would cause him. He wouldn't be surprised if the guards would kill him for punishment, first by slowly torturing him. Remy could deal with torture to a degree, but he knew he'd find a breaking point at some point or another.

"You leavin' da prison, so you don' gotta worry 'bout dat," he told her firmly. "When we pull dis t'rough, you an' Ty gonna take care o' da people who can't go off on der own yet? Ain't gonna be easy out der either."

"I suppose you're right. Guess me and Ty might head back to the Xavier Institute when we get out; take anyone who wants to go with us, too."

Confusion briefly flickered across Remy's face at the mention of the institute, but he shrugged it off. Sometimes he wasn't altogether involved with the going-ons at the place, what with his involvement with the guilds and his personal grievances. New faces were bound to sneak in every now and again with the rate the place had been growing.

"Dat sounds like we finished here, den," Remy wrapped it up. "I find you af'er I talk t' my friend, den we discuss da finer details, yah?" He took a couple steps toward the door. "See you later, Ty an' Tandy."

"Yeah, good to meet you," Tandy agreed. She moved to raise a hand to say goodbye, but something stopped her from pull off the gesture completely.

"D-d-don't f-forget, if y-you n-n-need us, t-tell us," Cloak called after the Cajun.

Nodding and winking, Remy swept out of the room.

His plan that he would find Logan right then and there and explain all of the details to him. The ground work that they had placed down in that short amount of time gave Remy the small push he needed to keep fighting the war they were thrown in. Now that something was in motion, Remy hoped that he could keep it in motion. A lot rode on him at the moment, since he'd be the main source of brainwork as well as skill, but he lacked a lot of the knowledge he should know. Logan, on the other hand, had been in the prison longer and would know more about how it worked. Remy needed him.

Unfortunately, despite trying to find the berserker within the same day, Remy's movement was marked with suspicion, and he retired to his cell.


	9. Chapter 9

Remy gripped the spoon loosely in his hand and stared with an unfocused gaze at the slop before him. It was the same type of food as every other day and it no longer bothered him, but he'd been losing sleep on top of the continuous malnutrition. He'd been searching for Wolverine, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of the man, but despite his efforts, Logan was elusive. It'd been a couple weeks since he talked to Cloak and Dagger, leaving the room with hopeful promises, but Remy didn't think he could pull of his plan without the beast of a man. Once again, Remy hadn't anything to look forward to.

Two other mutants sat around the table Remy was vacantly sitting at. Each minded his and her own business, but Remy wasn't the outcast any longer. The guards didn't give the Cajun any special attention like before, whether it be pleasant or negative. Because of this indifference, the other inmates weren't so weary to associate, even if by distance, with Remy. It was a poor comfort, but some comfort he needed nonetheless.

Movement around the perimeter of the room pulled Remy's attention from the slop on his plate. Most of the time someone moving around to beg their way out of the mess hall to some other area in the prison wouldn't gain Remy's interest, but Remy didn't often see anyone he knew. He supposed most of the X-Men got away and hid away when the government invaded the mansion, because the place was fairly free of his former teammates. Instead, lesser known mutants and complete strangers roamed the hallways and haunted the cells; no one of importance to the Cajun.

Remy's posture perked up immediately upon catching the style and color of the hair. Before he could get much of a look, the person disappeared out of the door into the gloomy hallways. She had some sort of purpose and it wasn't to the satisfaction of Remy.

Remy's pulse deadened and his breath caught in his throat. Before he knew it, he was on his feet, pushing away from the table in a shocked rush. As he stepped away, chasing after the form, his heartbeat returned full force. "Rogue?" he croaked to himself. His voice sounded disturbed and anxious even to his ears. "Rogue!" he shouted more strongly. " _Rogue!"_ He gained speed as he moved through the few tables to follow her. He'd made plenty of mistakes in this prison, he'd thrown away his sense of self, but she'd make it all better. Even though it was terrible that she was in this place, he wouldn't mind lending some of her strength to get everyone out and then return the favor to her.

Strong arms grabbed Remy from his path, throwing him backwards. "You won't be leaving," the accompanying voice informed him.

"No," Remy countered stupidly. "No! Dat—dat's Rogue! I-I need t'—"

"Rogue?" the guard smirked. He thought it over for a second before he let out a rolling chuckle. "Look, _Gambit,_ I have orders to keep all inmates in the mess hall. We don't want to cause worries, but we're on lockdown in another section and need to keep things stagnant in this section." A condescending tone coated his voice as he looked down on the Cajun sprawled across the floor.

For a moment, Remy didn't move. He stared blankly up at the guard, mouth agape. Then, in one movement, he leaped up from the floor and made to break away down the hallway. He didn't say anything to accompany the attempt or to warn the guard that he fixed to leave, but he was thwarted anyway.

"Are you listening, convict?" the guard asked roughly. "You aren't to be leaving this room. Mitch, call for backup."

Another guard, who appeared to have appeared out of nowhere, did as he was told. He eyed the crazed mutant with a suspicious look, but didn't bend over backwards to give a hand.

"You jus' … please, please don't. Not now." Remy once again lifted himself to his feet. "M-my ..." He stared down the dark hallway with a sad look. Then, as if snapping to some other self, he turned on the bulky guard and sent a hard and well-aimed punch to the throat. His eyes bugged out and a tiny sound escaped from his mouth before he fell back against the wall. His partner leapt to his aide. He didn't even lay a finger on the Cajun before he was elbowed in the solar plexus. He went down just as quietly as the first.

The path cleared, Remy darted down the corridor. He didn't get far before the backup appeared. In his weakened state, he couldn't get past more than one of them. The second soldier grabbed the Cajun from the shirt, slammed him into the wall, and knocked the air from his lungs. Another punch to the head sent him cascading to the ground in a heap. A final one sent him into unconsciousness.

When Remy awoke, he was laying a hard, cracked surface. The small crack under the door emitted a thin stream of light—the only light from which Remy could see by. Even so, it wasn't much to go by. All he knew for sure was that the room he was in didn't have any windows, which wasn't atypical of the prison, and that it was very tiny. It was about as long as Remy was tall and half as wide.

A terrible headache pulsated through his brain, a lot of pressure building up behind the eyes. Besides his head, he couldn't feel any other damages on his body.

He waited a couple minutes before Remy switched his position into sitting, though he leaned heavily against the brick wall. He unwillingly groaned under his breath as he shifted. Besides move around, he didn't have much else to do.

A cough from the adjacent cell notified Remy of another presence in the vicinity. "Hello?" he called weakly.

"Who?" Although it took a moment for Remy to think it over, he finally recognized that the voice belonged to Chiyo.

"Chiyo?" he demanded. He didn't receive an answer. "Chiyo!" After a couple more times of calling her name, he eventually gave up. Either she was so far gone that she wouldn't ever answer, or he had somehow hurt her unknowingly. He bunched up against the wall, resting his head against his knees and pulling his legs close with his arms. Even those he knew apparently didn't matter.

"I am not … allowed to speak to you," her faint voice came through the pipes.

Remy lifted his head so quickly, it swam. Blinking away the new onslaught of cranial pain, Remy tested his voice: "Chere?" Once again, she didn't answer him.

He knew it wasn't from her lack of knowledge about the English language that prevented her from replying. When they ran through the halls together, she was still able to get her point across to him with her broken language. Now, her Japanese accent was still prominent, but her language fluency was much smoother. It was from lack of will that kept her from having a conversation with him. Though Remy would never admit it, he felt the phantom pain.

"Chiyo?" he repeated almost silently. He brought his hands up from around his shins to around his chest. "Why not, eh?" he asked more strongly. His speech was still quiet, but more audible than before. "Dey da ones dat put me in here," he reasoned. "Chere, 'member what I said." For the second time that day, he heard the pleading tone creep into his intonation.

"Not them," Chiyo informed Remy. "Him." Remy's brows knitted together in confusion. "I belong to him," she continued. She was uncertain and scared, that much was plain.

"You don't belong t' no one," Remy argued. His hands squeezed into fists at his side. "Don't t'ink dat!" Silence filled the cells again, so Remy figured he might as well continue, though much more compassionately. "You ain't gonna see him when you get out. You'll be safer, chere."

"He will find me," Chiyo argued. "He can smell me."

"Smell?" Remy echoed, mystified. His mind instantly thought of Wolverine, the man he had been looking for, but even in his animalistic state, he didn't think he could do such a thing to a girl like Sayuri.

"He said he was being gentle. I do not want that again."

If it wasn't Wolverine, then Remy could think of one other person that could be as ruthless as Chiyo was describing, and still have a wonderful sense of smell. The very idea of it sent shivers down Remy's spine. "Sabretooth?" he asked Chiyo. He couldn't eliminate the fear portrayed through that one word. Before, he could deal with the mutt, but Remy didn't think that he could now.

She didn't give a reply to his one word question, putting Remy on edge even further. "Chiyo, it ain't Sabretooth?" He squeezed his eyes shut. "Mon dieu…. No one gonna hurt you, chere. I-I won't let 'im. If he come near when I 'round, I won't let 'im. Not while I alive." Sabretooth had taunted Remy too many times in his life for Remy to allow him to do it again. "I gonna get you out, Chiyo. Don't worry."

"I hope so." The whispered response barely made it into Remy's cell.

"Keep t'inkin' dat, chere," Remy told her firmly.

The couple let the conversation dissipate into silence. Remy's mind kept running through scenarios involving Sabretooth, though not all of them had Chiyo. Most of the outcomes weren't very nice. Turning away from that, he wondered why such a monster would be allowed close to Sayuri in the first place. It also meant that he was in the prison, which was an idea Remy didn't want to acknowledge, let alone think about.

"Why they bring you in here?" Chiyo asked suddenly.

Remy glanced sideways despite himself. "I … I dunno, chere," he told her. He couldn't fathom the event leading up to the black out and his sudden appearance in the ineffective solitary confinement cell.

"What's wrong?"

"What wrong?" Remy echoed halfheartedly. He suppressed a sardonic laugh. "Jus' … a lot o' t'ings piled ont' each other." The situation wasn't laughable to begin with. Hundreds of mutants were being treated like emaciated dogs, and Remy was helpless to stop most of it. He talked big by way of escape, but if he couldn't find Wolverine, the escape might never happen. Not a lot of other mutants had the ability to grab the attention of the plethora of staff so that Remy could orchestrate the departure of the mutants. The Cajun couldn't split his attention between getting the collar inconspicuously off of Cloak's neck, herd the disgruntled prisoners into groups for Cloak to easily teleport, as well as hold off dozens of armed and dangerous men. He doubted any one man could do it. Save Madrox, of course, assuming _he_ had use of his powers.

Heavy footsteps alerted Remy to another presence in the room. As was typical of Chiyo, he found, she hushed up quickly, never giving reply to his last statement.

"Which cell?" Remy assumed it was the guard that spoke, unless some other presence had been in the room all along.

"Third one," another voice answered. Remy didn't know another body had followed the first.

"Alright. As soon as I get her back to her cell, I'll send a couple other people down here to help you take care of him?" He was much closer, right outside Chiyo's cell by the sounds of it.

"He can't be that bad, can he?" A snigger accompanied the second man's bravado.

"Hey, I don't know. He's not in my section. Though he ended up in here and visited Raven before. _I_ wouldn't want to handle him alone."

Remy scoffed softly to himself, but the simple noise echoed briefly in his cell.

"Don't get full of yourself, convict," the first guard snapped.

"Ya ain't s'posed t' show fear or uncertainty in front o' da prisoners, ain't'cha?" Remy couldn't believe that he was asking for a fight again. He'd spent the last few months with his head down, attacking only when provoked. Was he really stooping so low that he'd act like an animal trapped in a corner?

"God, if he's just in here because he talks back, we're gonna have a word with some select people," the second guard complained. Remy shut up for effect.

"Nah, they're pretty serious about this section," the first guard countered. "Alright, see ya later, Pete."

"Yup."

The people sounded so normal to each other when they spoke. Only when they encountered mutants did they turn nasty. It was probably a result of conditioning to the environment of the prison, combined with the outsiders' look on mutant-kind, but the outcome was still irritating.

The grinding of metal against metal reached Remy's ears as the guard opened up Chiyo's door. He could hear scuffling as he picked her off of the floor and dragged her out of the cell and, soon after, the room. As far as Remy knew, he and the second guard were alone. While he could probably rile the man up, Remy didn't have the drive to, nor did he have the heart to break the silence.

It wasn't long before the room was filled with the sound of more footsteps. "Fuck, Matt. Can't handle a convict by yourself?"

"Haha," the guard, Matt, laughed without humor. "Apparently he's a dangerous one."

"Aren't they all?"

"With powers, maybe," Matt acknowledged. "But this guy knows how to fight. I dunno. I've never seen him before." Remy was pleased to know that his reputation preceded him.

"Yeah, whatever. If he's so dangerous, why isn't he in the east section?"

"Guess he's a latecomer. Ran out of room by that time or some shit. He won't be so bad for long anyway. Not after Snivels is done with him." Snivels was probably the worst name someone could come up with if they wanted to elicit fear in someone. Remy certainly wasn't impressed.

Papers shuffled. "Hasn't he already seen Snivels?"

"What? Really?" A pause. "Oh, no, that's one of Snivels's interns or whatever. Experimentation."

Remy's eyes snapped sharply to the direction of the voices. He didn't recall any experimentation the whole while he'd been in the prison, especially not in the presence of someone employed by the government. He supposed the only encounter with Wolverine could count as an experiment, but he wouldn't bet money on it. Either the two men were talking up a storm to frighten Remy, or they got him mixed up with some other inmate.

"He has seen Raven, though. I guess that's something," Matt continued. "She isn't exactly a pushover, either. She just has more … traditional methods, I guess you could say?"

"Mmm, yeah," his buddy replied humorously. "God, I wouldn't want to be mixed up with either of them." Funny that the men would say that, considering that the last time Remy had been with Raven, the conditions hadn't been too terrible.

"Alright," Matt sighed. "Snivels is probably expecting our newest problem maker."

"By the looks of his file, he isn't that new to the concept," the other guard interjected.

Remy heard a snort through the cell door. "You get what I mean. Got your tranquilizer on hand?"

"Yup." Pride laced the guard's voice. Remy thought it was pathetic.

"I'll go in first. If he gives me problems—"

"Yeah, yeah. This isn't new, Matt."

A couple footsteps later, the bolt on the other side of Remy's door was slid open. The door grinded open, throwing light onto Remy's curled-up form. He turned his face quickly away, squeezing his eyes shut in defense against the intruding light.

"Gambit, right? Well, listen up. We don't want anything to do with you. The better you act, the quicker we get rid of you. You decide to act up, you get to deal with the headache later. Got it?"

Remy didn't say a thing, mostly taking into consideration that Matt and Pete thought the only reason Remy was in solitary was because of his mouth. If he stayed completely silent, Matt would rethink his conclusions from earlier. It was a weak effort, but it was an attempt at fucking with a guard's mind instead of the other way around.

Matt cautiously advanced on Remy and pulled him roughly to his feet. Clamping shackles around his wrists and throwing both hands behind his back, he more or less shoved the Cajun out the door and into the second guard. Neither of the guards were substantial men by way of size, but they did know what they were doing, or so Remy could assume. He probably could have tried their patience to see what they would do in response, but Remy didn't feel like treading on toes at the moment. He had some foreboding feeling that he'd come across something much worse than solitary, wherever these two men were taking him.

They pulled him through the door leading out of the solitary hallway, which only lead into a much brighter hallway. They took a left turn, walked past a few doors, and then shoved Remy inside one of the last two doors. This room happened to be even brighter than the hallway from which they came, but it certainly wasn't from a lack of trying. Lights shone on nearly every surface of the room, the rays bouncing off of slick, metallic surfaces to reflect in obscure angles. Remy's eyes watered from the brightness, especially since his eyes had hardly adjusted from the near pitch-black environment of his solitary cell from moments before.

"This is the infamous Gambit?" a new voice inquired. Blinking through the optical pain and sympathetic tears, Remy tried to take in his appearance. All he got was that he was wearing a white lab coat, which was perfect for the setting.

"I don't know if you'd say infamous," Matt replied. "But this is Gambit. He's all yours for as long as you need him."

"Great." The word came out of Snivel's mouth in a long, sneering sigh. "Strap him up to the chair. I'll call you when he is to be returned."

"I'd had 'nuff o' sittin'," Remy cut in. He earned a veiled startled look from the guard without a name and a cloaked smirk from Snivels. "Standin's fine. Go ahead, you look tired. Have a seat, mon ami."

"Prefer standing, hmm?" Snivels questioned with undisguised amusement. "I think we can arrange that." Remy's self-satisfied look died right on his face. Snivels stepped aside from the middle of the room and gestured toward a circular structure. "Bind his feet together and secure his wrists in the shackles on the frame. He's a little taller, so make sure you shift the shackles up higher and secure them _tightly_ on the metal. You'll have to shift the frame so that he can't twist his upper body too much. Since it's his first time, I'll be a little nice on him."

Snivels turned to a pristine stainless steel countertop and adjusted some tools around on it. He pulled out a key from his clothes, unlocked a metal cupboard above his head, pulled out a few more tools, and replaced some of those already out on the counter. Matt left Remy to the nameless guard and did as Snivels told of him. Remy, a little frightened at the unknown, stayed perfectly still and silent.

As soon as Matt was done adjusting the tool, he returned and helped the guard holding Gambit to place the prisoner inside. Fingers clamped down tightly on Remy's wrists as the cuffs were released. Matt roughly shoved the Cajun's right wrist into one of the shackles, locking it tight soon after. His partner followed suit. The edges of the cool shackles were rough against Remy's bare skin, but as long as he stayed standing, it didn't rub too sharply. If he shifted too much, the shackles bit into his skin even more, which could potentially draw blood. As a final touch, the cuffs that held his hands together were transferred to his ankles, locking them together.

"Have fun with him, Snivels," Matt called over his shoulder before shutting the door behind him and his partner. Snivels and Remy were alone.

Snivels shifted to lean against the counter, staring at Remy's features. "Awfully interesting request, standing up. Takes more strength and I gather that's something you're currently lacking." He paused, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. "Gambit, huh? Obviously it's not your real name."

"An' Snivels is yours?" Remy shot back.

"Of course not. I thought I'd be more popular among the prisoners if I chose some pathetic code name. I don't think it helps." Snivels reached to grab a glinting knife off of the counter behind him. "My name is really James. James Hanson, actually." His eyes lifted from the shining surface of the knife's blade. "Don't think you'll commit that to memory. My particular brand of interrogation involves drugs, a lot of which play with your brain. You won't recall a single event from inside this room. Good for me, bad for you." He shrugged and set the knife back down. "What's your name?"

"'Less yer memory's worse den you t'ink, y'already said it, copain."

"Gambit is hardly a name," Snivels contradicted flatly. "I mean your real name. It's hard to believe that no one really knows it inside of this whole prison."

Remy tightened his jaw. "Not t' sound rude, ami, mais I t'ink Gambit work jus' fine 'tween you an' me."

Snivels nodded, appearing as if the decision didn't bother him in the least bit. "Very well." He shifted to support his full weight on his feet. Pacing forward, he never took his eyes off of the Cajun. "Do you understand why you are in this room?"

Remy shifted his eyes away from Snivel's piercing gaze. "No."

Cool metal slid across Remy's skin, starting from around his waist to up his torso. Remy flinched away from the light touch, but grimaced when the edge of the shackle cut into his arm. Snivels was snipping Remy's shirt away.

"Shame," Snivels commented dryly. "It says in your file that you ran after a guard as she was called to a different section of the prison in lockdown. You were screaming the word 'rogue' after her, completely hysterical."

Remy's breath momentarily caught in his throat. "I don' remember dat."

"You beat down the two remaining guards at the mess hall doors and proceeded to chase after her. You ran into a backup squad, from which someone beat you to bring you to solitary." Remy remained silent, avoiding Snivel's gaze at all costs. "Tell me, who is Rogue?"

"Rogue isn' a name, dipshit," Remy mumbled.

"Your body language suggests differently," Snivels observed.

"Non, dat from learnin' my _stupid_ behavior."

"Denial is natural. Who is Rogue?"

"It a word for some person dat don't follow da rules or somet'in'. I jus' know what it means."

"Is this where we begin our session? Who is Rogue?"

Remy lifted his head so that he could meet Snivel's eyes. "She ain't no one!"

A sly grin passed over Snivel's face as he pressed a burning shaft of metal into Remy's fingers. Shackled as he was, Remy couldn't flinch far from the contact. He succeeded in tearing open a sliver of skin across his wrist. "She is someone. That much is for certain. Who is Rogue?"

Muscles twitched on Remy's face as he fought back a snarl. "She a person, 'kay? We hardly know each other. She go her way, I go mine; times we gotta work t'gether, we end up fightin'." It hurt Remy to say these things about Rogue, the only girl he'd ever love, but in order to get Snivels off his case, he thought he'd have to go into some details rather than 'we're just friends' or something of the like.

A low laugh started up in Snivel's throat. "Hardly likely, Gambit. I thought we were friends, and friends don't lie to each other." The hot, burning rod pressed up against Remy's fingers again, pressing in closer and harder than the first time. Remy tried jerking away, but his shackles allowed him limited range. After a few seconds, Snivels took away the rod of his own accord. "Who is Rogue?"

"You better be ready for disappointment, Snivels," Remy snarled.

Once again, Snivels forced the hot rod against Remy's fingers. Though Remy tried twisting his digits away, Snivels didn't take the rod away. Still holding it against Remy's skin, he asked, "Who is Rogue?"

Blood slowly streamed down Remy's forearm as he pulled away from the hot, burning sensation. His teeth gritted together, his eyes narrowed near to the point of closing, he refused to scream out of pain or frustration. "She ain't important."

"Oh, but I think she is. The longer you hold out on an answer, the more likely burn scars will appear on your hand. I will move the rod when you've become insensitive to the intense heat." He gave Remy a couple seconds to change his mind and to answer his question. "Who is Rogue?"

Remy controlled his reaction for a couple more seconds, working hard on keeping his breathing even. The handling of himself switched for a moment when Snivels shifted the rod to a new area of Remy's fingers, but he still managed the silent and stoic effect. "She ain't important," Remy insisted tightly.

The rod pressed harder against Remy's sensitive flesh. "She _is_ important. Who is Rogue?"

Jerking hard against the metallic embrace of the bindings, Remy managed to further damage his skin instead of pulling away from the hot dowel. "She's dead," Remy snarled, though he managed to add a hint of sorrow in his voice. "I haven't seen her for months." The rod gingerly pulled away from Remy's fingers, though he could still feel the heat hovering over the undamaged skin. "She … she was da closest person I had, an' she's dead." His face still baring the shadow of the pained grimace, he chanced a glance at Snivel's face. "I t'ought I saw her, coul'n't believe it."

Snivels thought quietly to himself, holding the rod poised above Remy's hand without touching him. "If she was dead, why would you try so hard to protect her?" he asked of Remy.

Despite himself, Remy swallowed with his dry throat. Thinking quickly, he used it as a part of his act. "I still don't want t' believe it," he explained quietly. He inhaled a shaky breath and stared off to a far corner of the room.

Snivels appeared to take this as acceptable. He crossed the room again and set his rod down before grabbing another tool. "Alright, that's a start," he said evenly. "Let me say right from the beginning that being stubborn won't help you at all. Okay?" He turned around, the new tool in his hand. He searched Remy's face and body language for a second before continuing. "You will talk, you will not lie, and you will tell me what I need. Notice how I didn't say what I _want,_ because sometimes what I need and what I want are completely different things. Saying that you'll tell me what I want might spark lies. That's already a rule I told you not to break, but I try to eliminate loop holes.

"Ready to actually _begin_ our little session?"

"Nope," Remy said quickly. "Jus' remember I got an appointment wit' my colleges back at home. Y'know, bus'ness as usual."

"Robert told me that you had a smooth tongue," Snivels commented absently. "Quick thinking is a thing to admire, but you may want to watch what you say around here. Know that glib remarks during interrogation will not be as appreciated."

Snivels closed the space between him and the Cajun again, dancing the new tool under his eyes. As Remy should have expected, it was a glorified needle. Without so much as a warning, Snivels shoved it into Remy's arm, slowly pressing down on the plunger-like apparatus to discharge whatever it was inside to Remy's bloodstream. Remy flinched slightly away from it, but didn't pull too hard because of the damage he was causing to his wrists.

"We'll wait a few minutes for that to run its course. You should feel relaxed, though your brain won't be any less sharp." Snivels returned the syringe to the counter and settled up against it, his eyes glued to Remy.

Remy tried to omit all emotion from his face. He waited apprehensively to feel the effects of the drug, but when none came, he felt worry build up. To keep up with his game, he remained from twitching against the barbate restraints, though also to give his raw wrists a chance to rest.

Snivels didn't move, either. He had his arms crossed leisurely across his chest and his ankles crossed over one another as he leaned against the steady surface. His cold, brown eyes were fixated on Remy, looking for some telltale sign that the drug was working. Eventually, Remy began to feel a coldness creep into the once burning wounds. He had a quick flashback to another time from which such a thing happened, but once he tried grabbing onto the memory, it quickly fluttered away again.

"I assume you're prepped," Snivels commented, breaking the silence.

Remy's eyes darted back to the man's form. He hadn't realized that he had broken eye contact to begin with.

"Now, I don't think traditional methods would even begin to work on you," Snivels continued conversationally. He sorted through his tools on the counter again, as well as pulled one or two new toys out of the drawer. "Punching you across the face, kneeing you in the chest, threatening to drown you, you name it. I'm a firm believer in chemical warfare, but I don't want to _break_ you and leave you as a bumbling mess. Although I must admit, giving you regular doses of hard drugs would be quite amusing, especially when I suddenly, oh I don't know, _forget_ to give them to you…. In some cases, I just might do that. But you—oh you—you have quite a brain on those shoulders and it'd be a shame to scramble it so soon. Besides, I think you might have some … information we need.

"Gambit." Snivel's sudden change of topics was almost jarring. "I'm sure you've already heard this many times before, but that's an interesting name. I can't help but keep coming back to it. Of course you've chosen it yourself, but that makes it all the more fascinating. Tell me, why Gambit?"

"Don't'cha know what a gambit is?" Remy asked in return.

"If it has anything to do with games, then I'm afraid you're talking to the wrong guy."

"Den I can't help ya."

Snivels turned around, flashing a disconcerting smirk in Remy's direction. _"Au contraire, mon copain._ I think you can help me plenty." He paused, taking in Remy's expression. "What? You didn't think I'd let your French slide. My job is interrogation; I don't miss much."

The white-coated man turned back to the counter, staring intently at the tools at his disposal. "I'll have fun experimenting with you. I have some brutish methods laid out in front of me, and I don't want to add more drugs to what I've already given you. Not yet. But I need to be a little quicker than I am if I'm to beat the drug in getting to you. It's slow acting, but sometimes I can think too much before I do something.

"You _will_ feel pain, you know," Snivels promised, raising his eyes to the Cajun again. "What I gave you, it won't make it feel any better or worse. What it does is make you forget. Remember what I said earlier? You'll never remember me until some very unfortunate time. I'll find it quite amusing once you start asking about those scars you'll acquire under my watch."

The cold feeling of dread whisked through Remy's body. "How?"

"How will you scar? I don't know if you haven't noticed yet, but your wrists are already cut pretty deeply and I haven't even begun my fun."

Remy shook his head. "Non. You can' jus' make a person forget t'ings like dis."

"Modern science, Bubba. When committing something to long term memory, first you have to receive information. You're doing that well enough. Then it goes through your short term memory. From there, it must be _encoded_ into your long term memory. What I just gave you a couple minutes ago doesn't allow memories to be encoded. I'm sure there's a side effect, but I haven't tested this on myself," Snivels chuckled. "Tell me, what do you remember from my dear Robert's experimentations?"

The cold feeling from before deepened. What Snivels told him explained the nightmares and the hole in his memory completely. He didn't like the idea of someone playing with his brain—not his friends—and especially not a psychopathic prison worker.

"Ah … I see something's dawned on you at least. Okay, that's scary, right?" Remy turned a hardened gaze onto the man. "Mm-hmm. Listen, I can promise you one thing. You cooperate, and I won't have to do this ever again. I'll even write it down for you so that you can remember. All I need is a thing or two from you. First off, none of this stupid violence from you. You've proved that you're an able-bodied warrior that can go head-to-head against our petty guards. One-on-one, I doubt anyone can best you. We _know_ that. You're in here because of your little breakout attempts, you know. They're finding it hard to contain you. They're using me to scare you into submission. I'm sure it'll work eventually, but you'll end up being one of those creatures that sulks in the corner." He snorted as if amused at the accompanying thought. "You don't want that being your final legacy, believe me, Gambit.

"Second, you'll tell me what I need to hear. They figure you have something to hide, I don't think they're that far off. You were a part of something called the X-Men before this. From what I know, that faction grew and grew the past couple years." A sinister glint passed behind his eyes. "Your Rogue … I knew exactly who she _was._ Glad to know that we don't have to worry about her anymore. But Rogue isn't the only dangerous mutant we have to worry about. We have your Storm, Wolverine, Cyclops, Phoenix, Shadowcat, among others, but we're still missing a few. Unfortunately for you, for all those months that everyone has been here, you're the first X-Man to pass into my hands.

"You've always had a sketchy relationship with the X-Men, haven't you? You don't appear to me to be the type of person that can stick with one thing for a very long time. Gee, stop me if I'm wrong, but I'd guess Rogue was a huge reason you stuck along with them for so long." Remy twitched against his bindings, gaining a faint smirk from Snivels. "Yet what did you do when the mansion was infiltrated? You went searching for everyone and ended up right on our doorstep. Smart man, Gambit. I commend you. That means you have some _very_ important knowledge, doesn't it? You're definitely one mutant we can't ever let out of our grasps unless it's over your dead body."

Snivels rolled his eyes at another twitch from Remy. "C'mon, I don't plan on killing you. I've already told you that you're too valuable.

"Look, you've tracked us down, and we have the government behind us to cover our tracks. Your little mutant organization under the infamous Professor Xavier can't be so clever unless the whole team is as brilliant as you. Although let's be honest, you've been evading the cops your whole life, haven't you? New Orleans is quite a hot spot for you, isn't it?"

Remy couldn't even look at the man anymore. He heard the sardonic laugh and his muscles stiffened at the sound of it, but he didn't look in the Snivel's gloating face.

"Gods! I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I? All I'm doing is _talking_ to you! It doesn't hurt to lay it all out in front of you the first time around, because you won't remember a damn thing. Bear with me, Gambit.

"So, the case stands that we don't have _everyone_ that was affiliated with the X-Men. We can't have rogue mutants running around underneath the government's feet, though. I mean, look at what happened with Magneto! How are we supposed to keep hundreds if not thousands of mutants in check if they all realize that they just might be more powerful than us regular _Homo sapien._ _Homo sapien inferior?_ I expect the world as we know it come to an end and be run by tyrants. Honestly, you meant well, I suppose, but it won't end well."

Snivels straightened out, facing Remy completely. "Help us and you won't get hurt. Don't help us, I'll have to wiggle the information out of you. I guarantee either way you won't be making any escape attempts. Help us out and there'll be no need to do such a silly thing. Cliché as it is, I've got to say it: Don't make this any harder on yourself than it already is."

Both men in the room stayed silent for a couple minutes. Remy continued to deny Snivels eye contact, but his jaw worked as if he was literally chewing on the correct answer. "Ya all done talkin', homme?"

"Isn't that enough? That's more than your friend Wolverine ever got from anyone."

"Ya woul'n't get anyt'in' outta him anyway." Remy swung his head around to catch Snivel's eyes. "Listen t' me once an' only dis once; dat's da weak way out, an' I never take da weak way out. Dunno what you've ever head o' me b'fore, but I ain't no coward an' I got more integrity den people give me credit." He sucked in a breath and spat before his captor. " _Dat's_ my final answer. Write it down, take note, whatever ya gotta do."

Remy caught a flash over anger across Snivel's face, but before it could progress, he stepped forward and sent a punch in Remy's direction. It caught him across the face, jerking his head to the side and causing the sharpened shackles to renew the wounds on his wrists.

Sniffing, Remy straightened himself out the best he could, bounded as he was. "Ya ain't changin' my mind dat way or any way."

Snivels reached behind him and grabbed the tool he had been playing with most from the counter. "Disobedience will _not_ be tolerated," he seethed. All forced calmness had been abandoned.

With what appeared to be reckless rage, Snivels shoved the cylindrical tool into Remy's chest. At contact, it sent electrocuted Remy, causing him pain, but not enough so that it had been the worst pain he had ever experienced. He had a nagging feeling that Snivels was still playing with him.

After a couple of seconds, Snivels pulled the electric current away from Remy. Remy could slowly feel his body begin to relax again as he fought back the wavering pain. "Don't be messing with me, LeBeau," he warned through clenched teeth.

Although still a little wary, Remy lifted his head from its hung position and eyed Snivels. "What you call me?" he asked breathlessly.

"Please," Snivels sneered. "Don't think I wouldn't know your real name. You think you're a tough cookie to crack, but I did my _fucking research!_ This is interrogation, remember? Or, more likely what it'll turn out to be, just a lesson that I'll need to ingrain in your head day after day. You _will_ do as you're told. You'll banish all thoughts of escape from your head, you'll give the guards no more grief, or you'll remain in these torture chambers indefinitely. _Then,_ after that's all figured out, we'll learn where the rest of the X-Men are hiding. I gave you the easy way out, you filthy son of a bitch."

"Easy for who? You 'r me?" Remy asked. "You would'a done dis anyway."

The snarl still on his face, Snivels shocked him again, pressing the rod against him harder and longer. When he finally pulled it away, Remy's knees buckled out from underneath him. Unable to support his weight from underneath, he was held upright from his wrists. The metal teeth sunk deeper into his flesh, sending new rivers of blood snaking down his arms to his shoulders and upper chest.

" _Stop_ talking like you're in control," Snivels advised in a hiss. "You are _not._ You are at my mercy and I can damn well kill you if I want. No one will shed tears over the loss."

Remy slowly shook his head from side to side. "Ev'ry man for 'imself, copain."

"Exactly, which is why it's in your best interest to save your own ass."

"It'd be da day I die dat I give dese people away. Count me out o' yer games."

"Don't ask for it," Snivels said quietly. He touched the rod forcefully against Remy's chest again, holding it there until Remy snarled defiantly and sightlessly up at the ceiling. "You can scream," Snivels conceded, "I won't be offended."

Remy couldn't find the strength to reply.

.

The nightmares were back full force, except this time they included waking ones as well. It was impossible for Remy to tell what time it was because of the lack of lights, but also because the guards saw it fit to nearly starve Remy. Whatever figure he retained from the months in his cell were quickly being eaten away to keep him alive. His body had aches and pains in all places, though his extremities had the worst of it. He jumped whenever something touches his raw wrists or ankles because of the spikes of pain the simple touch sent down his nerves. He couldn't sit in one position for long, but every time he shifted, he hurt himself even more. He couldn't survey the damage on his own body with his eyes, because often times the light from the crack of the door was nonexistent. He rarely heard any noises that we're made from himself.

He remembered some of the nightmares he dreamt, though he couldn't be sure that all of them were real. He remembered being burned, of being lashed down, of being whipped, but most of all, he saw Rogue's death over and over in his head. Every time the scenario changed slightly, but no matter what, he couldn't stop the inevitable. He remembered seeing Storm outside, the natural light accenting the bruises on her darker skin. He remembered the animalistic ferocity in Wolverine's eyes. Remy could remember pain well enough, but he couldn't think up of anything happy to hold on to.

He was alone.


	10. Chapter 10

"Let me make it clear that I'm not giving up on you," Snivels explained. He waved a long knife in the air around him to accompany his words. "In fact, I'll greet you like an old friend if you ever find it in you to visit me again. We've been through so much together, believe it or not. I just loved your company, whenever you were competent. You're lucid now, right?" Snivels lifted up Remy's chin with the flat side of the knife blade.

"Anyway, I'm doing you a favor. Even the best of friends need breaks from each other. I think the couple weeks you spent in solitary will do you good. At the very least, you could show off those impressive scars on your wrists and back. And what do I get out of you? Not even a peep. Impressive, LeBeau. Too bad you won't be able to brag about _how_ you got them.

"I dare say, good look out there. You certainly have the heart of a con."

"Yeah," Remy rasped sarcastically, "merci."

Snivels chuckled quietly to himself before striding across the room and rapping on the door. "I'm serious, though. You're an interesting man. It's a shame that I couldn't figure you out a little better. As I said when you first arrived, it was never my intention to _break_ you. I just wanted to know what you know."

"No, you don'," Remy contradicted firmly.

The door to the room opened, a couple guards striding in.

"You can take him back to his cell, Matt," Snivels told him with another wave of his knife. "This game's over."

Matt glanced sideways at Gambit, an eyebrow raised. "Shit, why not just kill him?"

"I have my reasons, none of which are your business. Take him out."

Nodding his understand, Matt crossed the room and undid the more practical bindings from the chair to release Remy from its hold. He roughly pulled the Cajun to his feet, supporting most of his weight for a moment. It was mostly out of stubbornness that kept Remy from using all of his support. He was exhausted, weak, and beaten, but there was still a tiny spark of his old self still alive within him. Matt set a slow pace as he lead the Cajun first out of the room, then down a new hallway, and back into the familiar hallways of Remy's block. With the help of a nearby sentry, Remy was admitted into his cell and left alone.

Remy settled instantly on his bed and drifted in and out of sleep, completely unaware of the passing time. He heard noises from beyond his cell every now and again, but paid them no attention.

"Get _up,_ convict," a voice growled right beside Gambit.

Remy rolled over, surprised at the close proximity of the unfamiliar person.

"'Bout time you get up and do somethin' besides lay here and sleep away the days. We don't support the living dead; we could use the space much more effectively for some other filthy mutant."

"Days?" Remy echoed, genuine confusion lacing the one word question.

"You been here at least a couple days. Get up."

Remy slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, most of his body protesting the movement. He felt scabs pulling and ripping across his back—from what he got them from, he didn't remember. "I'm up," Remy assured the guard. He took in a deep breath and shoved his weight upwards, barely catching his balance. "You don' need t' be watchin' me." He took a jerky step forward. "Merci. Really."

Slowly regaining control over his body again, Remy walked down the corridors. At first he headed for the mess hall, as were the other mutants around him, but eventually he stopped in the middle of the hallway. He wasn't hungry.

He turned around and wandered down another hall with cells on either side. No one was inside any of them, and only a few mutants were still making their way to get food.

"Gambit?"

Remy looked around for the source of the voice. He thought he recognized the accent, but he couldn't be too sure about anything anymore. "'Crawler?"

"The one and only," was his reply. Kurt stepped out of a particularly deep shadow caused by a missing light near the top of the wall. "Mein Gott, what happened to you?"

"Wish I knew," Remy answered.

"You're kidding."

"Non. Can't remember a damn t'ing 'sides it bein' all dark an' … maybe some guards. Not an ambush, but somet'in' planned."

"You don't remember being someone's pin cushion?"

Remy lifted up his hands ever so slightly from where they hung by his side. "T'ink it's a little more complicated den dat, mon ami."

Kurt was silent for a moment as he took in Remy's torn wrists. "You'll want to make sure those wounds don't get infected. With something as nasty and deep as that is, there is a good chance of that happening. Be careful, Remy."

"I'm so tired, homme," Remy confided. "Don't t'ink much o' anyt'in' will be happenin'."

Remy could see sympathy flash across Kurt's face. "You won't be giving up. I never took you as someone that would ever give up."

"Not da first time I t'ought of it."

"What?" Kurt exclaimed. "Wirklich?"

"Nope. Last time I said I ain't fightin' no more, Stormy talked me outta it. T'ought I could still do somet'in'. I gotten _nowhere_ since den, Kurt," he barked. Immediately after, he coughed and fell into the wall. "No, I got somewhere, but not where I wanna be.

"I'm so tired," he added in a whisper.

"I would take a guess and say that that is because you look like you've been through a meat mincer," Kurt observed. "Don't give up now. You've been in this place too long to allow that to be an option. Verstest du?"

"Yeah," Remy snorted softly. "See ya on da other side."

"I'm serious," Kurt insisted. "You specifically have been through worse."

"An' whose fault was dat?" Remy accused.

 _"Not_ mine, Remy. Do not point false fingers or you will not be any better than those that run this place. Be safe, mein Freund, and I will go eat."

Remy's stomach did an unwelcomed flip-flop at the mention of food. "Safe is impossible, Kurt, but I will stay alive."

"I look forward to our next meeting, then," Kurt said as farewell.

Remy nodded and stared down the hallway. All of the cell doors were open, leading into empty rooms. As Remy started up walking again, he glanced briefly into each room. He saw the same scene over and over again: a couple of beds, a tiny space, a place to take care of business, and nothing else. Everyone was gone to the mess hall to eat.

Once cell in particular caught Remy's attention. He hadn't thought it possible, since he was well into his own little world whilst all alone in the middle of the labyrinth of hallways. Backtracking a couple of steps, Remy glanced into the room and blinked his disbelief. "Wolverine?" he questioned out loud.

Logan lay on his bed, a thing blanket pulled up around him. He had his back to the door, and though Remy couldn't see his face, he could see that the man didn't look well. From what Remy could see of his skin, he was covered in a thin sheet of sweat and he was shivering lightly. The room was certainly cool, but it wouldn't get this response out of any healthy person.

At the sound of his name, Logan's head jerked up before he slowly looked around. With some obvious trouble, he pushed himself into a sitting position to give Remy his full attention. He tentatively reached one hand up to gingerly touch the side of his neck. Every movement was hesitant and slow, though moving the one hand appeared to stump him for a fraction longer.

"What da hell got t' you?" Remy asked, taken aback.

"What didn't?" Logan replied. He lowered both hands to his lap and stared at them. They shook slightly as if he couldn't control them that well. Rubbing them together, he looked back up at Gambit. "You don't look so good either," he observed.

"Yah … not sure why," Remy commented softly. He slowly covered one wrist with the palm of his hand, gentle enough so as not to bother the sensitive wound. The deep gash on his other wrist was in plain sight, but he had no way of covering both simultaneously.

"Ya need anything?" Logan asked abruptly.

Remy flustered for an answer for a moment, his wits not about him as they once were. His eyes broke away from Logan's battered form, glancing around the cell as he formed the words that needed to be said in his head. Finally, he settled his gaze back on the short Canadian. "Well, I was hopin' t' ask somet'in' o' ya, but seein' ya now, I not sure dat's a good idea."

"What do you want me for?" Remy was surprised at how quickly he responded.

"Sure you up t' it?" Remy asked for confirmation. He didn't want to push the guy too far, even though he doubted Logan had much for upper limits by way of ability.

Remy shifted his weight onto one foot, and eventually shuffled over to sit beside Logan. Still trying to cover the worst of the damage to his body, he also avoided eye contact. "I was talkin' wit' Cloak an' Dagger an' we got t' plannin' an escape." He paused, briefly trying to glimpse the expression Logan had on his face. He remained stoic. "I was hopin' you'd make a distraction so dat I can get Cloak's collar off, so den he can get some prisoners out. I t'ink …" He breathed in sharply. "I t'ink we get left behind, though." He swallowed, adding to his quick succession of unconscious nervous gestures while in the same cell with Wolverine.

Logan remained silent for a few moments. He stared vacantly at the wall in front of him, thinking through what Remy requested of him. Eventually, he nodded lightly. Turning his neck, he looked Remy square in the face. "I can try. Just depends how big of a diversion you want."

Holding the Canadian's eyes for a moment, Remy dropped his head into his hands. Not bothering about covering up his wounds any longer, he ran his fingers through his knarled hair. "Try?" he asked into his lap. "What you have in mind?" When Logan didn't answer immediately, Remy rubbed his thumbs into his forehead before lifting his head again, throwing it back with a heavy exhale. "Once Cloak has his collar off, he gonna get all da prisoners in da mess hall out, an' him an' Dagger. One'a us gonna need t' get his collar off an' cover 'is back, an' da other one make a diversion. You in on one o' dose jobs, mon ami?"

Remy kept his mouth shut as Logan thought it out. "There is one way," he eventually said, his voice a little distant. "Trick'll be to get me angry enough." Remy looked sideways at him, his brow furrowed. Logan met his gaze for a split second before clambering to his feet and pacing to the other side of the room. He stretched his bare torso out slowly as if working out the kinks in his muscles. "When we do this, all you can do is trigger it and then get the hell out of my way."

Questions quickly arose in Remy's head, one of the most prominent being why should Remy have to anger Logan when he had reason enough? "So I gonna need t' be da one t' make you angry?" he asked skeptically, bypassing all why questions. The two of them never really got along all of the way, and Remy often did end up angering the Canadian, but this wasn't a time when they needed to be working against each other. Remy wasn't sure if such a feat was currently possible. "Not sure if I can do that. What you plan on doin', mon ami?"

"You aren't the one that's gonna make me angry," Logan clarified. All he did was assure Remy's mystification over the subject. He came to the man for help, and it appeared as if Logan had it all planned out beforehand, but needed a scapegoat. "They have this stuff they can inject. Raises the adrenaline levels, making me more agitated. A second drug will make sure I enter rage." Remy shifted uncomfortably on Logan's bed, immediately disliking the sound of the plan.

"Just be sure someone stands by with some calming meds. I'll do the rest."

"Oh," Remy said, simply for the sake of saying something. Anything. He unconsciously played with his fingers on his lap, careful to avoid jostling his wrists too much. "I'm gonna have t' swipe da meds, ain't I?" He paused and clenched one fist tight. "Gonna have t' find someone t' take care o' ya, too, den. I gonna be busy wit' Cloak."

"Victor …" Logan said under his breath. Remy's eyes quickly jerked to Logan's face at the name. Too many things had been making Remy uneasy lately, but Creed's name still made it quick to arise. "Make sure he's around when I do this. He'll try and stop me … but be sure to keep me alive." Remy was certain that was the most absurd thing he had heard all day.

"Victor as in Sabretooth?" Remy asked, just in case another man with the name Victor was running around the prison. He was sure that wasn't the case. Why he want t' help you? How I gonna be sure he goin' t' be 'round when you do dis?" Remy rattled off straight after. "I don' like dis idea, mon ami. You sure?"

"He will, as soon as he hears," Logan assured the Cajun. "He'll look after me."

Nothing was falling into place. Remy thought he'd come around and find answers, but the politics of the situation were clouding up the objective. Remy wasn't sure who was or wasn't on his side.

Searching Logan's face, Remy eventually conceded to the man's wishes. "Alright, den. If you're sure. So your part taken care of once someone talk t' him."

Remy and Logan both stayed silent for a long time. Remy thought over all of the people that would have to be included in this increasingly complex plan, sorting through whom he could and could not trust. Every perception he had before being incarcerated was being thrown down the drain, making it hard for him to grasp onto these seemingly simple concepts.

Eventually Logan walked across the room again to sit beside Remy in his previous spot. Remy studied him another moment, trying to judge if he could really pull this off, when he noticed tiny and deliberate wounds on his neck. "What happened t' ya neck?" Remy asked bluntly.

"Some other kind of drug…. Makes you very open for suggestions," Logan answered promptly.

A suppressed memory flashed across Remy's thoughts, distracting him for a second. When he couldn't recover whatever it was, he turned back to the situation they needed to plan out.

"An' den we need t' get Cloak's collar off. How I gonna do dat?" Remy inquired. Any other time, Remy wouldn't have hesitated to jump straight into the situation and bypass whatever safeguards it had then and there, but he didn't have any of the tools he was used to. Besides, he figured Logan would have better knowledge over this anyway, though he couldn't back up his reasons as to why.

"You'll have to bypass the security or you'll fry Cloak," Logan warned Remy. Remy didn't like the sound of collars having security. "The best way is the lock on the back. It's small, but should be on the lower side. You find a way to catch the current of the shock and you should be able to get it loose. Perhaps pry something between the skin and the collar," he suggested. He added a shrug along with it.

"What kind o' lock is it, eh?" Whatever it was, Remy believed he had the skill to unlock it. "Simple enough, I hope?"

As self-conscious as he'd never been, Remy slowly reached a hand up to his own collar and explored it with his fingers. After so long, he finally acknowledged its presence. Finding nothing of particular interest, Remy lowered his hand down to his knee.

"I jus' hope Dagger still willin' t' go wit' dis."

Completely ignoring his question, Logan skipped over to his statement. "I'm sure she will. It's the only way out so far. If we have to wait any further …" Logan left that comment drift into nothing.

"She da one dat di'n't seem too happy 'bout puttin' Cloak in trouble. Cloak seemed okay wit' da idea." Remy paused, then added more quietly, "I hope he can go along wit' it when I seem 'em again.

"As soon as I leave you, I go find dem. When we doin' dis, eh? We need t' be exact, since we ain't gonna be linked by radio."

Remy glanced down the hallway, belatedly looking out for any possible eavesdroppers. He didn't see a single soul in the dreary hallway.

"In two days they have some big thing scheduled. You guys will be taken down to the mess hall. I will try and break loose. Make sure you have the meds by then." He sniffed. "Just keep in mind you have five minutes top. I ain't sure how fast they'll be able to stop me." He looked Remy straight in the eye. "Don't wait for me once the collar comes off."

"Two days?" Remy repeated back incredulously. "All o' us goin' t' da mess hall don' sound like a passive move on der part." He rested his head into his hand, ignoring the discomfort it caused him on his fingers from the burns.

"But I t'ink if I give you da meds, you can find Sabretooth an' help you out. Den I'll have t' work wit' Cloak's collar when t'ings get crazy. One t'ing, mon ami," Remy added in a stronger voice. "Dagger said Cloak can't teleport more den twenty people at a time. Der gonna be more den twenty people in da mess hall if most o' us der. If you get da attention o' most da guards, I gonna have t' protect da crowd an' take care o' da guards in da mess hall."

Despite himself, Remy saw the plan falling apart in front of him. He knew he wasn't in any shape to fight, what with his wounds, malnutrition, and lack of rest. Remy would have to find someone he trusted to help him out, or he wasn't getting very far. Remy had fought off impossible odds various times in his life, but things became more and more ridiculous as he got older.

"If I have someone helpin' me keep da guards back, I'll be able t' do it in five minutes, easily." He wasn't as confident as he sounded, which in turn made him even more uneasy.

"I'll send Laura," Logan said, "and take Sayuri as well. They're able to fight them off."

"Who's Laura?" Remy asked, right when Logan continued with the other name. It took him a moment to process the name out of his own speech, but once he did he nearly choked. "What? I can' let Sayuri fight 'em. She look like she can hardly take care o' herself, let alone take a guard down." He shook his head. "Da only way I let her fight an' stay, instead o' lettin' her be one o' da first, is if I can cover 'er wit' my cards. An' I don't have my cards or my power. She ain't fightin', mon ami."

"She can," Logan argued simply. A low growl entered his voice. Looking down at his hands, he continued to emphasis his point: "You wouldn't say it, but if she wants, she's one of the best. And Laura, she's a fourteen year-old kid. She'll know what to do."

Remy wasn't sure if Logan was serious or not. The two people he happened to mention were a defenseless Asian woman and a defenseless kid. They hardly sounded helpful. To sort this out, Remy scrutinized Logan with narrowed eyes. "You lettin' a fourteen year-old girl int' dis plan?" he questioned stiffly. "Sure, she be easy t' find, but I can't ask her or Chiyo t' help!"

"The fourteen year-old is a clone of mine," Logan explained. "She can cope."

At that moment, Remy suddenly understood Logan's decision on that girl. As for Chiyo, he still couldn't comprehend.

"Chiyo's doing what she does best, keeping alive here by putting up an act of the innocent sweet young girl." Logan met Remy's eyes. "Give her the chance and she can show you what she can do."

"Dat mean … she ain't?" Remy asked for clarification. Logan was turning half of his stay in the prison upside-down within this simple conversation.

"Oh she is, when she's in a sane state of mind." Logan raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised at Remy's imperceptiveness. "She's never done something which surprised you? Suddenly attacking instead of running and hiding?"

Remy shook his head. "Even if she has, I can' trust my memory," Remy said in response. He breathed out, held the exhale, and then sighed. "Alright, fine. If she can help, she can help." He waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss the idea. "Anyt'in' else we need t' discuss?"

Logan thought for a moment before he shook his head. "Two days," he reminded the Cajun.

"Bonne chance," Remy replied.

He rose painfully to his feet, wincing as he stretched out the wounds on his back. Taking a few slow steps, he eventually left the cell and started wandering back to his, the meal having been completely forgotten.


	11. Chapter 11

Remy ran through multiple possible scenarios in his head. He didn't have a lot of time to pull these complex plans through. He could barely find the people he needed to find in order for the breakout to happen. If he couldn't find Cloak, no one else would be able to get all of the mutants out before all hell broke loose. Nightcrawler could only teleport one person at a time. Not only was that method tedious, but it was taxing as well. While Kurt was in much better shape than Remy, he still wouldn't be able to teleport more than a dozen people out in the time Wolverine gave them.

Logan said that Remy had two days to pull everything together. He already had slept away one night, leaving the rest of this day, the night, and the next day before they needed to get things in action. Tomorrow, he'd have to run into this Laura kid, break into one of the prison's medical facilities, and find something he'd never seen before. Then he'd have to get that to Logan, and he wasn't even sure if he'd be able to find Logan again. Assuming he'd find Laura to help him out in the first place. She was a kid, but he hadn't seen a kid around before.

The plans for the distraction were a wild chance in the dark to begin with. Even if they did fall into place, he'd have everything at the mess hall to deal with.

He still didn't understand why the prison guards were herding the mutants into the mess hall. He'd take it at face value and use it to his benefit. Hopefully he wouldn't have to ask questions later, but he was getting a dreadful feeling that he would. There was no way a thrown together plan could work so well without repercussions.

If Remy could make it to the mess hall in one piece, should his actions getting the drugs for Wolverine be successful, he'd then have to find Cloak. It wasn't guaranteed that he'd be there in the first place. Even if he was, Remy wasn't totally confident that he'd be able to pick the collar free from Cloak's neck without damaging the man's nerves. Though picking the collar wasn't the main problem.

Out of the whole plan, the weakest link was the end. The hardest part to keep under control was allowing Cloak to get all of the mutants out of the prison. Since Remy was keeping the plan limited to only a few people, that left him and him alone to deal with crowd control. Thanks to his time with Snivels, while hardly remembered, he was left physically weaker than he'd been in almost as long as he could remember. He could barely stand, let alone fight. He'd end up huffing on the ground after a short sprint. There was no way he could fend off a fly.

His wounds weren't getting any better, either. He knew they wouldn't heal overnight, but he knew for a healthy healing process, they would not have become inflamed. He barely had to move for the tender wounds on his back to split open again. Trying his best to keep still, Remy merely lay on his stomach in rest. He wasn't accomplishing much, but he didn't know what else he could do.

The whole point of getting in this mess was lost. Sure, he had come out to find the X-Men, but he knew it was more than that. He wasn't noble; he was raised a thief. The reason behind getting himself caught – while a fluke in his original plan – was much more personal than finding the whole team. Specifically, he wanted to find Rogue. They were on good terms again and he didn't want to lose her.

Something told him, he wasn't sure where it came from, that his goal was impossible to reach now. She was gone from him forever. She was nowhere to be found. She had to be dead.

No one knew where she was, he couldn't find her, and he had seen most of the team already. She was dead.

The whole point of going through months of this torture, of formulating a plan to get out, was pointless. He couldn't ever get back together with Rogue because she was dead. While Remy had been a member of the X-Men long enough to know that sometimes miracles did happen, usually those that died stayed dead. Rogue would be one of them. She was gone and he could never get her back.

The breakout plan was impossible enough. His own well-being wasn't as important as finding the other piece of him. The team didn't need him; they made that plain often enough. His presence was a nuisance. Rogue never made him feel like that. Now he had nothing to gain.

That alone didn't mean that he wasn't going to try his damnest to get everyone out of the prison. He'd die getting everyone out. His last purpose in life. Sure, he didn't need Rogue to live on, but having her by his side wouldn't hurt anything. The many mutants trapped inside this building needed him, and he already said that he was going to get everyone out.

His promise to Raven meant nothing. He didn't care if he'd never see her again. He was going to break out without any inhibitions. Besides, Raven wasn't Rogue. She was something he could do while in the prison. She was one of the few nice things inside these dingy walls.

Remy grinded his teeth together and buried his head in his folded arms. Greasy hair fell in a heap across his forehead and tickled his ears, but he didn't move. Frustration was building up in his chest again, but there was nothing he could do. He could barely move to physically vent his problems. He didn't have anyone to talk to, not that that had ever been an option in the past. All he could do was spit in the face of the prison and get everyone out. He'd do it all in spite if that was the drive he needed. That's about all he could hold on to anymore.

The doors clanged open, letting Remy's section out to roam, but Remy didn't move an inch. He knew that he needed as much strength as he could muster for the breakout the next day, but that wasn't enough push to get him moving. He was in too much pain. Pain didn't always have to be physical, either. Physical pain wasn't always the worst.

Remy could hear a mass of shuffling feet in the corridor, marking the beginning of mess hall, but still he didn't move. As far as he could tell, no one stopped or took note of his continued presence inside his cell. No one cared just as much as Remy. Everyone inside was apathetic to the general treatment. They were broken animals without a cause. That was the only thing that kept Remy apart from them. He had a cause, but he didn't have an attachment to that cause. It wouldn't gain him anything, and Remy certainly wasn't the unselfish type.

Eventually all the sounds disappeared again, leaving Remy in complete silence. The silence was nice at first, but it let him dwell more on his problems. He tried forcing everything out of his mind, but it didn't work well. He fell asleep again with turmoil in his mind.

He didn't fully wake up again until the following day. A pit of dread settled in his stomach, but he couldn't focus on it. He had a purpose.

Remy slowly clambered out of bed, wincing every time a scab pulled across his shoulders as he moved. He knew he was going to be in a lot more pain as the day wore on, but right now he didn't have his adrenaline pumping. All he had to do was hope he could find this Laura kid, and if not that, then pull off this stunt alone. He didn't exactly need her, but he was beginning to find the idea of bringing someone along with him to the labs as a good idea. He wasn't exactly in the best shape, and this plan needed to get further than simply him getting caught before meeting up with anyone important to the mission.

As Remy slowly moved toward the cell door, another form blocked the entranceway. Remy paused, looking the figure over. She certainly wasn't a guard due to her size, and it wasn't Raven.

"Uh, hi."

"You're Gambit?"

"Oui," he confirmed slowly. He couldn't get a good look at her. What did she want?

"There's an interconnecting room where they keep the samples in the laboratory."

"Qu'est-ce?"

The girl wiggled impatiently. "That's where we're going."

It took Remy a little while to piece together what she was saying with prior knowledge already in his brain. Once he did, he inadvertently let out a little "oh." So he didn't have to find Laura at all. By the sounds of it, Wolverine had already filled her in with the plan. That, or someone else did, though Remy didn't have a clue as to who the new person could be.

"Right," he said authoritatively. Now that he knew what was going on, he could try and take better control of the situation. He was the mastermind of this plan, after all. "Ready den?" All he received was a curt nod from Laura.

Trying not to let any of the pain show through, Remy created a mask and carefully walked past her. He couldn't cover up all the wounds on his body, especially the ones on his arms, but she didn't have to see the ones across his back, nor did she have to sense they were there. It took a lot of concentration to walk normally with a smooth gait, but once he had it under control, he was able to let his mind expand to different problems.

Laura kept pace beside him, walking with a fluidity Remy hadn't possessed for months. Remy could tell she was on high alert, but it was subtle enough so that the casual passer-by wouldn't be able to notice. She was obviously good at what she did.

"Keep an eye out f'r cam'ras. Find one, take it out."Again, all Laura did was nod in response.

As they moved down the corridors, Laura eventually took the lead. The couple passed by a couple cameras, but when Laura moved to do as instructed, Remy placed a hand on her shoulder to hold her back. She often tossed him a questioning glance, but Remy didn't respond, continuing to move forward. They didn't need to leave a trail, not now. They weren't in bad territory yet.

Once they were near the laboratories, Remy let X-23 take free reign of her assignment. She pulled a knife out of seemingly nowhere, tossing it accurately to take care of one camera. Remy silently questioned her methods, but didn't waste breath in actually asking her. They had more important matters at hand.

Within a few steps, Remy knew exactly which door to attack. Hoping for the best, he tried opening it, but as expected, it turned out to be locked. Kneeling down so that he was level with the lock, he quickly inspected it. He automatically reached for where his lock picking kit would be, but stopped himself when he realized he wouldn't find it. He furrowed his brows in frustration for a second before turning to the girl.

"Dis ain't a very good start," he told her lowly. He could probably find a way inside, but he'd have to be lucky enough to procure some viable tool. There had to be some faster way.

Laura's back was turned when Remy first spoke to her, keeping look out like she was told to do, but when Remy did speak to her, she turned around and looked at the lock just as Remy had. Instead of looking around for some outside tool, she glanced at her feet and then back at the door. "I can do it," she told him. "Keep watch."

Still confused, Remy moved away from the door and searched around to make sure no one was approaching. All he could hear was their breathing, as well as her movements, which was quickly interrupted by one characteristic sound: _snikt._

Tearing his eyes away from the hallway, Remy looked down at her foot. Already blood was dripping from the wound made by her adamatium claw. She carefully balanced on one leg, cutting through the door with that one claw like it was a hot knife through butter. As soon as the lock was cut clean through, she retracted the blade back into her foot and carefully settled her weight back onto two feet.

"Go," she nearly barked at him.

Remy did as she told him without a word. He glanced behind him to make sure that it was only she that followed as she carefully shut the door behind them. It obviously didn't look the same way it had before she got to it, but that didn't matter. Hopefully it would only take the pair of them a couple minutes to find the serum Wolverine needed to enter rage.

Why Logan needed a drug to do something he should be able to do naturally, Remy was at a loss. He wasn't in tip-top shape like the rest of them, but the Logan Remy knew would be able to bite back death, let alone a little sickness and pain. The wild man had done it before, so why would his time in the prison be any different? Even so, if the man said he needed it, Remy would get it. This plan needed to work. There couldn't be any weak links, despite all the flaws Remy foresaw.

With the door shut, the room they were in was rather dark, but there was still enough light to see. Remy slowly strode into the middle of the room, taking a look around. He didn't see much, but there was another door. He walked up to it, checked to make sure it was locked, and then started looking around the room for a tool to open it up. He checked a couple empty drawers, and he expected the rest of the room to turn out the same, but he did eventually uncover a drawer with a couple thin tools. Remy chose one out and walked up to the door, expertly picking it open. Rising to his full height, Remy stepped in through the now open door and flicked on a light.

"Now we gonna have t' find it," Remy muttered, looking around the room.

As Remy moved to a wall to search through some of the supplies on the shelf, Laura slowly walked into the room. "It smells strongly in here," she commented. Remy didn't take his eyes off of the row he was now scanning, but he could tell that Laura was helping him out. They found themselves in a big room full of hundreds of samples; it could take a while to find what they needed, especially since Logan hadn't given him a name.

"Try t' ignore it," Remy suggested absently.

Laura didn't reply. They were both concentrating on trying to read the names of the various labels, though most of the words were well over Remy's head. He didn't understand a single thing. He was in over his head. Nothing looked even vaguely familiar.

"You know what da stuff might be called?" he asked her after a few minutes of confusion. Maybe Logan had given her a better idea of what to look for. He had told her where to find Remy, after all, as well as where to go to start searching. "Or what it look like?" he added hopefully.

"I don't know," she replied. Remy's heart sunk, that dread building up in his stomach again. "It's a trigger scent, right?" Remy didn't reply, but he did look up from his searching to watch her. "The scientists at the facility had one for me, too, which would cause a berserker rage." Like father, like daughter. "You're lucky that this serum is not the one they used on me," she told Remy, turning around to toss him a look.

"All I remember that mine was a green liquid. I don't know if it's the same for Logan." She shrugged and turned back to her rows of vials, returning her search. Remy was a little slower to react as he mulled it over. Logan hadn't said trigger scent, he had suggested something completely different. He didn't think they were looking for anything of the sort, which sent them back to the drawing board.

"Whatever it is, we gotta find it fast," he said eventually. He turned back to the shelves, trying to read the names again.

He had a creeping feeling. It ended up being strong enough so that he had to suppress a shudder that threatened to go down his spine. He wasn't sure if it was some sort of sixth sense warning him of another approaching presence or if it was his nerves going for broke. Breaking contact away from the samples, he glanced at both doors, trying to pinpoint movement on the other sides. He didn't see anything, so he returned to his work.

Silence filled the room as they continued to look. A headache slowly began to form in the back of Remy's head, making it even harder to concentrate on reading the tiny names, but his patience was still intact.

"See anyt'in'?" he asked. He knew time was of the essence, but his mind really did need a break. Rising to his feet, he allowed a little stretch, despite the pulling it caused at his scabs. He had been crouching and looking at incomprehensible names for too long. He glanced over at her to see if she had anything, even a reply. When he didn't receive a reply, he went back to searching.

After a couple more shelves, Remy ran across a rather simple name. Some of the tension unknotted from his stomach, though it never completely left. He felt like he found something. "Laura …" he said slowly, not wanting to sound too excited. "Dis it, you t'ink?"

He couldn't hear her footsteps, but she was suddenly beside him, looking around his arm. "Perhaps. It looks promising."

The couple couldn't get any more conversation in. X-23 suddenly jerked, her eyes jumping to the door. "Time's up," she murmured. Before Remy could even respond, she opened the door to the lab and disappeared into the other room. As Remy made his way to the door, he heard two solid sounds, and then silence again. When he peered in to the lab room, a white-coated man was on the ground in a growing pool of blood.

"I don't know if they managed to alert the guards," X-23 quickly explained. Remy's eyes whipped to her face, but eventually wandered around the room. Now there was enough light to actually see features of the room. It looked strangely familiar, though he knew he'd never been in that room before. "We better hurry back to Logan," Laura continued, though Remy barely heard her.

The room jerked in Remy's vision as he fell to the ground on his knees. Memories of the dreams that haunted him at night flood back into his consciousness, making him aware of the horrors in his recent past. He didn't have memory blanks; his mind was covering up segments of his memories. He never had that problem before … but Snivels explained it all. _"_ _What I gave you, it won't make it feel any better or worse. What it does is make you forget. Remember what I said earlier? You'll never remember me until some very unfortunate time._ _"_ Remy's breath quickened, the pain in his wrists sharpening. With the vial of Logan's serum still in hand, Remy wrapped his arms in tight around his chest. His eyes stared ahead, unseeing.

 _"Tell me, what do you remember from my dear Robert's experimentations?"_ He squeezed his eyes shut. He knew this couldn't have happened; he would have remembered it. These were the dreams he couldn't remember that were coming back to haunt him. He didn't know what it was with this room, but it was making them all come flooding back to him.

 _"Who is Rogue? She is someone, that's for certain. She_ is _important. If she was dead, why try to hard to protect her?"_ Remy's breath then caught in his throat. He couldn't breathe. The room spun around him. _"You_ will _feel pain, you know. Your Rogue, I knew exactly who she_ was. _Glad to know we don't have to worry about her."_

Snivel's voice echoed in Remy's already aching head. _"Glad to know we don't have to worry about her."_ Remy knew it. Snivels had told him. Snivels told him the news. _"We don't have to worry about her."_ She was dead. You don't worry about the dead. You worry about yourself. You mourn the dead.

Remy couldn't mourn her. He was never told she died. He never went to her funeral. They threw her out like some old toy. Mutant lives were worthless lives.

"Gambit!" X-23 nearly shouted, snapping Remy back into the present.

Blurry-eyed, Remy looked up at her, just as discombobulated as before. "We need to hurry," she hissed. To accentuate her point, she paced over to the door, glancing behind her to make sure that Remy was following. It took him a while to climb to his feet, and a couple more moments to study the room in distaste, but once his back was turned, he was gone.

Laura set a quick pace through the hallways and Remy had to keep up. He felt pain in more than one way, but he needed to ignore it. He had a mission, and while heartbreak wasn't a part of it, Remy could easily file it in as motivation. These mutants needed to be free.

The pair only ran into a couple other people in the hallways, but everyone they ran into happened to be a prisoner, not a guard. As they darted past, the other mutants moved out of the way and pressed into the wall to allow Remy and Laura room to move. They appeared startled, which was good since it meant they weren't totally apathetic to everything. They were still capable of emotion, which meant they could recover outside of the prison.

Thoughts threatened to break through Remy's walls of concentration, and Remy almost succumbed to them again, but he was able to push them back. X-23's pace made it a little easier to concentrate on the job at hand and nothing else.

Soon, they reached the block where Wolverine's cell was. Laura finally slowed down to appear less suspicious and Remy thankfully obliged. He had almost forgotten that Laura had a deep wound in her foot, where her adamantium blade emerged, but she had as good of a mask as Remy. No one could tell that she was in discomfort.

Looking through each of the cells, they eventually ran across Logan's. Gambit entered first, X-23 close on his heels. "Dis better be it," Remy said quickly. He held out the vial to Logan for him to take. Logan grabbed it from Remy's hand without a word and went over to his bed. Remy took a couple steps backward to exit the cell in order to dark over to the mess hall, but his curiosity made him stay a little longer.

From under the almost non-existent mattress, Logan procured a syringe. Opening the cap, he shoved the needle in through the top, and then looked up at Remy. "Better get going," he told the Cajun. "I ain't sure if I'll recognize ya."

Remy nodded, turning around to the hallway. He had a good point. The two rarely got along in their own time, and since Logan should be pushed into rage, who knew what he would or would not recognize.

In order to get the mess hall at about the same time as the other mutants, Remy quickened his pace to a jog. Laura stayed behind with Logan; he didn't have anyone to set a brisk pace anymore. Remy's body wanted to quit on him, but he pushed himself forward. He had a plan that needed to be executed. So far everything was going well.


	12. Chapter 12

Even though Remy had been behind getting the drug for Logan, he was one of the first to arrive in the mess hall. Mutants slowly filtered in around him in such a discombobulated mess that Remy could hardly tell heads from tails. To avoid too much jostling to preserve his strength and mental block for the pain, he moved to the wall of the room near the door. He was sure a guard or two would notice his station, but he didn't really care. It wasn't like they could do a lot about it. If they wanted Remy to move, he would, but until then he was going to use the wall as support.

First Remy scanned the room to make sure that Cloak hadn't already entered the room before Remy. He was a rather unique character with his build and ethnicity, so Remy was able to quickly rule out that he had already arrived. That decision made, Remy's eyes switched over to the crowd being fed into the room. He barely gave most of the mutants more than a second glance one he knew that they couldn't be Cloak.

After a couple minutes, Remy was surprised that so many mutants were held captive in the prison. The mess hall was a big room, but the mutants had eaten in stages. Now most of the population was filtering in through the doors. He couldn't believe that so many mutants existed, and the government couldn't have rounded up all the mutants on the continental US. That didn't mean that Remy's race – species – or however anyone wanted to classify them was a threat, but he could now see through the humans' perspective. There really were a lot of them, all with their own special power. Get enough people with the ability to manipulate dangerous things like Remy, and that's where the threats came in.

More mutants walked by, and while Remy didn't recognize most of them, he did find a few familiar faces. "Kurt!" he called. The blue-furred German turned around to face him.

"Remy?"

"C'mere an' gimme a hand."

Kurt's face was the picture of confusion, but he obliged. "Was ist los?"

Remy continued to watch the crowd, his red eyes darting between faces. "Got a plan an' need your help. Need you t' cover my back."

Determination set in Kurt's eyes, but he was still confused. "What are you planning?"

"Can't explain. See if you can find others we can trust an' dat can fight."

"Fight? Remy, they're going to want a reason."

"Tell 'em dey're fightin' f'r der lives."

Kurt's mouth set in a fine line, his breath hissing through his nose. "I don't know how many of us can fight anymore, Remy."

Taking his eyes off of the crowd for a split second, Remy turned on Kurt. "Den dey don' wanna live. I can barely stand, an' –" Before he could get anything more out of his mouth, he shut his lips tight; a guard walked into his line of sight and nearby. He didn't want anyone to know what he was planning, especially not the guards. "Get dem t'gether," he ordered quietly to Kurt.

Without another word, Remy turned back to the crowd, his eyes scanning for Cloak.

"I trust you," Kurt said. He disappeared in the mass of people to do as Remy told him. Remy felt a little better having backup, but that didn't make his mission any less dangerous. There were plenty of places he could slip up. Also, Cloak could never show up. With as many people gathering in the mess hall as there was, Remy was getting antsy. He was getting the feeling that Cloak wouldn't appear. What happened if he was dead?

The trickle of people moving into the mess hall began to slow down. Less and less people showed up. Guards took stations around the room, keeping any eye out for any wrong behavior. Remy thought that his plans were garbage, that even if Kurt rounded up an army, they would have no way of getting out.

Then Remy caught the eyes of a man walking into the room. Keeping his focus on him, Remy weaved through the crowd to get to him. Unless Wolverine found Cloak as well, he was completely unaware that the plan was going down today.

"Hey, you ready?" Remy asked once he was in ear shot.

The big man turned around to face Remy and nodded. "D-do it," he told Remy.

Pulling out the tool that he had found in the lab room, Remy quickly inspected the collar's mechanisms. His skills were rusty, but he had managed to pick the lock for the supply room fair enough. Hopefully nothing would go wrong with Cloak's collar.

"Put da collar your shirt under da dog collar," Remy whispered to Cloak. He stepped away from the man just long enough to make sure that no guards were watching them, to ensure that Remy had enough time to pick the collar off. Once he was positive no eyes were on them, Remy turned back to Cloak's collar. "Alright, hang wit' me an' don't move."

The lock Remy had to work with was tiny. With less feeling in the tips of his fingers, Remy was hardly able to manipulate the fine tunings of the collar. Also, the metal tool that he had stolen wasn't the best tool to be working with.

When Remy didn't figure the lock out right away, frustration bloomed in his chest. He wasn't good enough for this job anymore. He was going to fail the whole populace of the prison, despite the fact that most of them were oblivious to what Remy was doing for them at the moment. Once chaos took place, they'd gradually understand. If they didn't, they'd be left for dead, just like Remy, Wolverine, Kurt, and the army he managed to gather up.

"Got it!" Remy hissed triumphantly. He let the tool drop to the ground without a second thought, and with both hands he removed the ring from around Cloak's neck. "You alright?"

"Yes," he said back without a stutter. Remy wasn't sure whether or not he saw a flicker of happiness on his face or not, but it didn't matter.

"Bien. Get as many out as you can, but wait t' see if da guards react t' what we got Wolverine doin'. I gonna go find Kurt an' we cover your back when you make your trip back. Good luck, mon ami." Remy spoke quickly in order to get the plan in motion as fast as possible, but for once in months, he felt a spark of hope. He knew that he wasn't getting out himself, but he'd done well for the many people surrounding him.

Within only a couple seconds of searching, Remy was able to immediately pick up on where Kurt was at. Trying to stay as inconspicuous as long as possible, Remy carefully moved his way through the crowd to move up beside him. "How many you get?"

Kurt motioned toward Shadowcat, Jubilee, and Jean beside him. Remy nodded. He didn't expect to get help in the first place, so four more was better than nothing.

"Still got some fight in ya, Jubilee?" Remy asked. She hesitated at first, but did nod. "Kay. Kitty, Jean, you workin' crowd control wit' 'Crawler. Jubes, you givin' me a hand."

"Remy," Jean said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. Remy flinched away, causing her to take her hand away with a surprised expression. She hesitated before continuing to her question. "What are we preparing for?"

"Chaos," he replied simply. "Jubliee, le's go."

Jubilee exchanged a confused glance with Jean, but she followed Remy through the crowd anyway. He took his time in getting through the people, conscious that multiple malicious eyes could be watching his every move. He didn't need to hold back torrents of people any longer than he had to. His body wouldn't allow too much abuse.

Before he got to the door, he noticed a couple of the guards walk up to each other and exchange heated conversations. He couldn't make out any of the words they were saying, but they obviously weren't happy. Their hand movements became more aggressive, their faces more livid, as they went on. Eventually, a couple of the guards broke off and out of the room. Remy could see their backs as they retreated. They quickly jumped into a jog once out of the mutant crowd.

Remy wasn't relieved that his plans were panning out. He didn't even feel apprehensive. As far as he was concerned, he was finally doing well on his initial goal. He was getting people out.

"Alrigh', look," Remy said quietly. Jubilee looked up at Remy's face, despite that he wasn't looking down at her. He kept his eyes glued on the hallway everyone had entered from. "Not sure what you know, but we need t' keep Cloak's back covered." He expected her to butt in and ask him why, but she stayed as silent as ever. He was glad she wasn't going off on him with unstoppable chatter, but it was unnerving at the same time. Jubilee was never silent. "Can't let no more guards in dis room, an' dat's our job. Kurt, Jean, Kitty, dey make sure dat da guards already in da room don't hurt anyone in dis room."

"Are you … are we getting out of here?"

There was the question Remy had been waiting for. He knew it was coming, but he hadn't figured out a way to answer it. She needed to have hope, otherwise she'd bend under the pressure just as Remy feared he would. He understood that his part in the whole plan was crucial, but he could barely stand up. How could he tell her that she was going to hold back hordes of armed and fit men without actually getting out? She'd be left behind just like Remy to suffer the repercussions. Remy knew it wouldn't be pleasant, but he was prepared.

"Maybe," he answered in a long sigh. He couldn't tell her the truth, but he could give her half of it. He could give her some hope where Remy didn't have any. That little bit of anticipation could keep Jubilee on her feet and save a plethora of lives. Remy didn't have anything to fight for.

"But this isn't about us, right?" Jubilee added. "This is about being an X-Man." Remy started for a second, caught unaware by her sudden maturity, but then lowered his eyes. She understood it perfectly. There was absolutely no way that Remy would be able to hide anything from her. She already saw the whole truth of the matter. When Remy looked back up at her, however, she wasn't as defeated as he; instead, she had a new resolve in her eyes. She was ready for whatever challenge the prison had to throw at her.

"Oui," Remy replied quietly. A ghost of a smile appeared briefly on his lips before he looked ahead again. They had to quickly get through the crowd, and the pace they were setting wasn't sufficient. Only a couple more groups of mutants separated Remy and Jubilee from the doors, but they had already taken too much time to get where they were. Remy's lollygagging was now working against them.

"We need backup!" A voice cut over the whispered sounds of the crowd. Jubilee chanced a look behind her, but Remy knew exactly what they were talking about. Cloak had made his move and now it was time for Remy and his thrown-together crew to move into action. Without letting his brain act otherwise, Remy grabbed Jubilee's upper arm and began pulling her through the crowd. She jerked her attention back to the task at hand, leaving Remy to push their way into position.

The guard took in a breath to cry out again, but Remy advanced at him before he could. Remy's face was a picture of concentration as he sent the hardest punch he could muster at the guard's face. The man staggered backwards, but he wasn't yet down for the count.

"Cover da door!" Remy shouted back at Jubilee. He didn't have to look around to see that she was following out his orders.

Remy didn't wait for the guard to regain his composure. Remy sent another sure punch at his midsection, knocking the air out of him, and another to his face. He fell to the ground with an audible sound.

Whirling around, Remy sought out Jubilee from the masses. His eyes caught on her, figured she was doing well, but not so well that should carry out the task alone. The mutants that had been gathered around the entrance pressed further into the room. Whether it was out of fear for the fight by the door or the promise of freedom by where Cloak disappeared, Remy didn't know. It made Remy's job a little easier, for differentiating the prisoners from the guards.

Just as Remy suspected, more guards showed up at the doors of the mess hall. Remy slipped by Jubilee to engage them. The first couple went down easy, having been unaware that a rogue prisoner would be attacking them. Remy noticed another few guards slip past him as he was engaged with one, but he was confident Jubilee had them under control. She appeared to still be going strong. Remy's strength was nonexistent to begin with. He was slowly slipping. He was letting in too many attacks.

Another pair of hands reached into Remy's fight. Remy looked around the guard's body, expecting Jubilee, but seeing Raven instead. Remy immediately dropped his guard out of surprise. There was no way he could stand a chance against the powerhouse of the prison.

"Keep fighting, Cajun," she instructed. She quickly finished off the man Remy had been warding off and turned to help Jubilee.

Remy shook himself out of his surprise and turned to the next empty-handed guard. Raven was right. He just couldn't believe that she had turned sides. Either she had been a plant, or she suddenly decided that Remy's side was the right side. Remy didn't know the answer. He didn't have enough time to think over the answer. Raven was on Remy's side now, and that turned the tables greatly. She was the one person out of possible hundreds that wasn't sickly. She knew the weaknesses of the prison.

So much for keeping his head low. She wasn't doing such a good job of it, either.

The guard he was struggling with now jabbed him in the ribs through Remy's idle thoughts. Remy stepped backwards, his back slamming into the cold wall behind him. His hand automatically reached up to cover his torso. He managed to slip by the next punch thrown at him, placing him in the middle of the hallway again. Remy lifted up his fists, preparing to give more of a fight than he was physically able.

As soon as the man turned around, Remy sent a hard, firm punch in the man's direction. Remy was startled when the guard caught his fist midair instead of knuckles connecting to bone. With one swift movement, the guard twisted Remy's arm against the elbow's bend. Remy unwillingly cried out, the edges of his vision blackening. When the man let go of Remy's limb, Remy staggered away without realizing. When he looked up, he saw the man's fist, and that was the last of his conscious thoughts.


	13. Chapter 13

Remy opened his eyes. He was still so groggy that he couldn't comprehend anything at first. The surface he was lying on wasn't what he was used to. It wasn't hard, but soft and fluffy. The smell of fresh linen reached his nose, confusing him even further. He couldn't hear much, but that wasn't atypical. He couldn't hear coughing or shuffling. It was simply a comfortable silence.

Remy tried to move, to lift his head to figure out exactly where he was, but pain seared through his body. Without meaning to, he let out a small cry and fell back onto his pillow. He had a pillow to support his neck for the first time in months. Even though he had returned to the position he had been comfortable in, the pain continued to throb throughout his body. He couldn't figure out which part of his body was even causing the hurt. Everything did. He was a giant ball of aching nerves.

He noticed that his wrists were tightly bound in sterile wrapping. He could feel other places on his back, across his chest, and down his legs where whomever had taken care of him fixed him up.

Although it took a while, while the pain slowly dissipated, Remy realized that there was absolutely no way he could be in the prison. Even the infirmary wasn't as soft and cushy as this bed was. He couldn't figure out where he could be. Remy was a thief and hell wouldn't be this luxurious, unless he had been misguided. The only problem was that he couldn't remember what had happened. Did everyone get out?

He almost wished he knew who exactly had taken the care to tend to all of his wounds, but at the same time he didn't think he could face them again. Remy had been hiding a lot of those damages for a long time. He didn't need anyone to think he was weaker than he really was.

A soft knock rapped on Remy's door. Knowing that he couldn't move without his body violently protesting, Remy tried looking in the direction of the sound, but quickly gave up. He couldn't see much outside of his immediate line of vision.

"Remy, it's Jean," he heard. Remy blinked out of surprise. Jean? He hadn't seen Jean since the mansion had been attacked. "May I come in?"

It took Remy a while to figure out how to respond. Usually whoever wanted his attention barged in and demanded it. No one had asked him permission for anything. Even before the prison, Remy's opinion wasn't often sought after.

"Uh, yeah," Remy answered. He was startled to discover that his voice was still working.

Jean opened the door without sound, closing it behind her with a soft click. "How are you feeling?" Jean asked, concerned. Remy couldn't understand why she was being so kind. He was alive; how much better could he be? He wasn't in the prison, and nearly any place was better than there. Those answers were obvious.

"Wh-what happened?" Remy asked. Jean could figure out her answer well enough.

"We got out." Jean smiled, though something still haunted her happy expression. "Thank-you, Remy. Would you like something to eat?"

She was avoiding something, and Remy knew it. He just couldn't call her out on it. He needed to play her game. That was the only way he could make any headway in the future. Now wasn't the time for his particular problem and its answers.

"Non," he replied. He started to shake his head, but caught himself when the pain flared up again. "T'ink dat if I try eatin', my stomach won' take it."

Were they back in the mansion? He didn't think he was in his room. Then again, he didn't know what his room looked like anymore. Dank walls, cold temperature, and no privacy was his room. Something inviting was strange. And if it was the mansion, exactly how did he get there? Confusion gnawed at Remy's insides, but he knew Jean would avoid any questions directed at her. She'd give vague responses, just like before.

"Why don' you take a seat, chere?" Remy asked. If she was going to stay at all, she might as well make herself comfortable.

Jean hovered by his beside for a moment longer. "I can get you some soup," Jean offered. She was always friendly towards Remy, but this was over the top.

"Non, merci," Remy said. He could act polite as well.

After his rejection to her offer, Jean happily obliged to Remy's offer. She gently turned around and sat down at the very edge of his bed, making sure she didn't disturb his covers too much. She twisted just enough so that she could maintain eye contact with him, but kept her distance to keep the atmosphere no more than friendly.

"I wanted to make sure that you were alright. You've been in the med lab for a while and were gone when I went to check on you."

Remy wasn't planning on asking what had happened, at least not in detail, but now Jean was asking for it. She purposely put the topic right back on the rails. "Really, Jean, I don' remember what happened af'er Jubilee an' me left you, Kurt, an' Kitty." His eyes widened and he moved to get up. The pain stopped him right in his tracks, though Jean gently laid a hand on Remy's chest to hold him back. "Are dey alright?"

"Shh," Jean told him. "Jubilee and Kurt are fine. Kitty's walking around, though she has a lot of recovery ahead of her. One of the guards really got into her head."

Remy nodded, thinking once again. "Stormy?"

Jean looked away for a moment and then returned her gaze to Remy's face. "She'll be okay."

" _Be_ okay, chere? Whaddya mean _be_ okay?" Remy remembered how defeated she had looked in the prison. He remembered how much pain she was in – both physically and mentally. He remembered how they had been treating her like a dog. Yet she was the one to tell Remy not to give up. She may have been the reason everyone was out and alive: simply because she gave Remy the little bit of hope that he needed to carry on. "Where is she?"

This time, Jean completely avoided Remy's eyes. "She's … she's not with us, but we know she's fine."

"She got out," Remy demanded. It wasn't a question. If he had failed in getting out his friend, he would raise as much hell as he could muster. That wasn't a whole lot at the moment, but he could heal.

"Yes," Jean said. "We all did, Remy. The prison is completely shut down."

Remy sunk back in his pillows, letting the silence stretch on. He couldn't believe he had accomplished so much. "Den … did anyone find Rogue?" His voice was so quiet, Jean could barely hear him. He didn't have to look at Jean to know that her silence was a bad sign.

"No," Jean replied. Remy could feel her lean over and put her hand on his in a consoling manner. He didn't react. He didn't move. That was not what he wanted to hear at all. He at least wanted to find her body. To have some closure.

"Remy, I'm so sorry."

"She's dead," he almost sobbed. He didn't have the strength to actually cry, but he knew it to be true.

Jean quickly pulled her hand away, surprised. "What? Remy, no. She was never in the prison. We don't know where she is. She could be anywhere. We just haven't found her."

"But, in da prison … she's dead. I know it."

"Remy, she is not dead. She got away from the government. She's still out there."

Remy knew that she was lying, but he might as well let her appease him. Remy had been told that she was dead. He didn't remember who had, but it was a fact. People didn't actually come back from the dead. "Den why aren't you lookin' for her? Why haven't we found her?"

"We are," Jean said. "Remy, don't worry. We're still pulling ourselves together. We'll be fine. We'll get over this as a team, okay? Why don't you get some sleep? You need to heal."

Remy set his jaw and wouldn't meet her eyes. She clearly was dismissing him, despite his inability to move. "If ya say," he said vaguely. Jean pulled her eyebrows together in concern at flippant reply, but she didn't say anything more.

Remy could feel her weight leave his bed, but before she left the room, she told him, "Good-night, Remy. You're among friends." A couple seconds later, his door clicked close again, announcing how alone Remy really was.

The whole goal of breaking into the prison was to get Rogue out. If she had never been in there, his suffering was for nothing. Yes, he did get everyone else out. He had done a very good deed. But learning that hurt almost as much as her being dead.

Who really were his friends, anyway? Storm had been the one to extend a hand towards Remy – the first person to do so since his banishment from New Orleans. Rogue was the woman he loved. He didn't have those connections with anyone else in the mansion. Xavier had listened to Ororo and allowed Remy to stay as an X-Man, but there had been plenty of times where Remy had been alienated under his watch. Scott never liked Remy much, and nor had Logan. Logan really let his animosity toward the Cajun show. Others acted nice to him, such as Jean, but he couldn't really consider them his friends. No one _really_ knew him for who he was. He wasn't just a thief. He wasn't just an X-Man. He was a completely unique mixture.

Such unsettling thoughts continued to circle around his head. Jean was obviously trying to comfort him, but she wasn't giving him all of the details. She didn't want him to worry. Her primary goal was to let Remy heal, both physically and mentally. She had been in the prison; she knew what it was like there. She appeared unperturbed, but she was raised to have a strong mind with her mutant powers. She probably had as many demons as Remy. All Remy wanted to know was how he could help his friends. Namely, Ororo and Rogue. There wasn't much he could do for Rogue anymore, but he needed to find her. And Storm … it sounded like they were hardly trying to get her back. She was safe, but not home. What did that even mean?

The thoughts continued to cycle deeper through his mind, making him more and more uncomfortable. But the longer he sat on it, the more tired he became. It wasn't just a physical tired, either. This was the first time he was really allowed to sleep in months. It was a mental break as well. He was able to drift off and his mind shut off completely. He was nearly dead to the world.

Remy's room was completely black when Remy woke up again. Something had warned him off someone's approach – a loud noise – but his brain only snapped to attention. Ignoring the warnings his body was giving him, Remy scooted up in his bed, using the bed's backboard to support his full weight. He looked around his room, saw nothing but darkness, and then decided to test his voice again.

"Who da hell der?" he demanded strongly. He was very proud to learn that he could sound like he was in charge of what monsters he had in his head. He could still sound very menacing if he tried.

"Go back to sleep," was Remy's reply. Remy didn't know what to make of it. An intruder didn't often tell the other to simply go back to sleep. At least Remy knew who the intruder was. He was no stranger to this man.

Remy kept a straight face. "I ain't seen you in a while. Why don' you close da window an' take a seat. We have some t'ings t' catch up, n'est-ce pas?"

Logan hesitated for a moment before letting out a very large sigh. His footsteps – loud enough to hear – traced back to where Remy lay in bed. He didn't sit down like he had ordered, but he had definitely caught the madman's attention.

"Two weeks," Logan clarified. Remy was taken aback by the large span of time, but he didn't let it show. Logan must have had his senses back full-force, which made it harder for Remy to feign emotions, but he could still try at the very least. Lying was Remy's specialty, even after his time in the prison. "Well, talk."

Remy frowned at Logan's short words. He wasn't much of a talker, true, but he could at least try and act interested after listening to Remy's demands.

"An' two weeks ago, all we talked 'bout was how t' get out. Not much o' a conversation, ya ask me." Remy could have bluntly asked what Logan was doing now, but he made sure to hint at the question as much as he could in his statement. Logan wasn't dense enough to have it lost on him, though he may try and act the part. Even if he did, Remy could come out and ask it. Logan would respond, but that didn't mean it had to be favorable to Remy's curiosity.

"Well, you hit the floor before the end, so we decided to give you one of the first tickets home. Two others an' me stuck behind for a while, waitin' for the right time. Tore the compound to the ground."

Jean hadn't been lying when she said the prison was out of commission. Remy knew the amount of destruction that Logan could cause alone. Give him a little team, and he could create that much more havoc. It gave Remy a little satisfaction that they could pull off something with so much grandeur, but at the same time he knew that taking down the building wasn't that much of an accomplishment. It was a symbol, but the scars still remained. They would never go away.

"Damn," Remy said simply, if just to say something at all. His brain was still too fuzzy for him to fully comprehend what was said and all of the implications. "Least you pulled t'rough wit' da plans," Remy added after a long moment of silence. Still, Logan didn't reply.

Logan didn't leave, but Remy didn't know how to further the conversation. He continued to rethink all of what had been going through his head before until a very prominent question snapped into his head. "Mon ami?" Remy searched for Logan's eyes, but could only make out his form in the dark. "Where you go after da break? Couldn't'a been da mansion." If that had been the case, Logan wouldn't have been sneaking inside through Remy's window. He wasn't even sure why he was coming in through Remy's.

"Victor …" Logan said softly. "Victor took me along. Dragged me through half the compound looking for some girl. When we couldn't find her he headed back toward his home. Took me along." Remy could see him lower his head and almost could feel the tension and that he was holding something back. "Storm … Sayuri … both there."

"Storm at da – ?" Remy shook his head. Why would Ororo be with Sabretooth? Ororo and Victor had never been on the same side of a fight and had no reason to work together. Something was obviously wrong. What didn't make any sense, however, was Sayuri's being with the man. Victor had been the man to inflict all of the physical pain to Chiyo. She wouldn't stand by the man's side. Remy knew that. What had Victor done that had three people who absolutely despised him stick to his side?

"How are dey?" Remy would figure out his little riddle later. Right now, he needed the full story about Ororo's whereabouts as well as her wellbeing. Jean had been deliberately vague; Remy knew that Logan wouldn't do such a thing. He may withhold the truth, but he wouldn't give him bits and pieces.

"Storm, well, she seems to be fine." Remy's eyes instantly narrowed. He had assumed incorrectly. He knew right then and there that Logan wouldn't expand to any more detail. His statement would stand alone and his motives were going to stay hidden. Subtlety wasn't the berserker's strong suit, but he was trying his best to work at it. "Now, all you have to do is find Sayuri again. Haven't seen her around in a while."

Remy didn't know why the responsibility fell to him. Sure, he had made sure to stick by Chiyo as much as he could inside of the prison to keep her alive, but he didn't think much else would come out of it. He cared for her, but it wasn't deep enough that he was actively concerned about her safety, especially now that they were all outside of the prison. Remy didn't like to hear that she was with Victor, but surely Logan could have taken care of the situation. Logan had more of a connection with the small Asian girl to begin with. He knew more about her and had issued warnings to Remy about how she worked. Remy had met her only a couple of times in the prison and had temporarily taken her under his wing.

What Remy really wanted to know was how to help out Storm. Storm was already abused in the prison, and Remy couldn't see how she would fare any better in Victor's care. Remy was glad to hear that she was out of the prison, but Remy wouldn't constitute her condition as fine given the situation. He didn't know what the two had to even do with each other. Remy was afraid something terrible would happen, and very soon. Victor had never played nice with Remy's friends and acquaintances before. In fact, Victor had never seen eye-to-eye with Remy the entire time they knew each other. Something always turned bloody when the two were put together. Nothing ever went right.

"Sure, I get up an' do dat now," Remy spat sarcastically. "I not even allowed outside da mansion. Everyone watchin' me, an' I sure ain't in good shape." Remy hadn't tried standing up yet. Getting into the position he was in now was painful enough. "Right now, dis place almost as bad as da prison. Still can' do what I wanna do. Dey find me if I step outside dis room. I know dey will."

Jean had come in because she was simply concerned. Jean had withheld a multitude of information from Remy because she was concerned. Remy could only guess what else was going on. He had only woken up now, but he knew how this place operated. He was positive he knew how worse the people would get after such a horrible event. They would treat him like a baby. Remy wouldn't be able to get anything done. He'd been in rough shape before, but every time he came back a bloody mess, they came down on him worse and worse. He wasn't a loner anymore. He reported back to these people.

"Guess I'm lucky then," Logan replied. He didn't allow Remy's sarcasm to get to him. "I never get stuck here for very long."

Logan's approach didn't help Remy's bitter attitude, but he did try and play nicer. "Dunno if it a lucky t'ing or not. Don't forget da der normally two side t' t'ings, if not more." Life was a gamble, after all. Everyone had their reasons to play the game. Oft times, reasons differed.

"Well, guess they want you to recover then," Logan deadpanned. Logan understood the X-Men as well as – or more likely better than – Remy did. "Can't blame 'em."

"Can't blame 'em?" Remy echoed. His voice quickly bordered on hysterics. He didn't expect Logan to side with his new captors. "I can't jus' sit her an' watch everyt'in' goin' on! Der ain't no time for recoverin'!" Remy wasn't sure if he even believed that himself. He needed to get up and moving before he could make that judgment call. "We got somet'in' t' do, an' I can't!"

Logan was acting so nonchalant about the whole situation, like it wasn't a problem at all. People that mattered to Remy's life were in trouble, Logan had the means to help them, and he was doing absolutely nothing. Remy couldn't understand how the man could break off from the X-Men to get himself in a valuable position and not even use it.

"What do you wanna do?" Logan demanded. The hardness to his voice instantly made Remy rethink his position. "Run in there like that? Face Victor? Get killed?" Remy flinched at how blunt and one-sided he made the situation sound. "You'd be no use to anyone then, would ya?" Then, as if flicking a switch, Logan turned tactics. "I found out long ago that if Xavier tells something, he does so with a reason."

Remy felt like he had been told off by a parent. "I know I can't do nothin'," he hissed. Without thinking, he brought his hands up and buried his face in his fingers and ignored the consequential pain. "Dat da problem. I can't live dis way…." His voice became noticeably softer as he continued to speak. His defeat and confliction surfaced without anything to hold it back. The prison had broken him. Remy was walking on a wire.

Logan sighed, bringing Remy's attention away from his own problems for a moment. "Look, we got this under control, okay? Once you're better, you can get things done again."

Remy didn't like the way Logan was treating him, but he took it. He was too emotionally raw for him to fight anymore. He was tired of these deadly games.

"Where were ya off t'?" Remy asked. Completely changing the topic of discussion might give Remy a break from Logan's hard logic.

"I actually came to see Jean," Logan said. Remy should have known. He was sneaking around the mansion like a cat in the night.

"Two rooms down t' da right. Jus' so ya don't accidentally open another door," Remy yawned.

Logan shuffled through the room and soon a beam of light spread across Remy's room. Remy could see Logan's outline against the light. It didn't appear as strong as before, but it was better than Remy's own.

"Hey, t'anks for da updates. No one's tellin' me what's goin' on anymore. It's like I'm a chil'." He paused. "Ain't very helpful."

Logan shook his head, slowly closing the door. "Compared to some of us, you are."


	14. Chapter 14

"Remy, you're not fit to leave this mansion," Hank called after him. Remy could hear his lithe footsteps behind him and could tell that he was keeping a close distance, but the beast hesitated at physically stopping him. He should know that Remy wouldn't listen to his words, no matter how reasonable they sounded. "Remy!"

"Gambit!" Scott shouted from a side door. Remy's step hesitated for a moment, but he continued his stride down the hallway. "Listen to Hank. You are not to leave the building."

Remy's hands clenched into fists, but he didn't halt his process. He was healed enough and people he cared about needed him. The X-Men weren't doing anything about the situation. Remy freed them from the prison and they weren't cleaning up the mess. They weren't going after their own – teammates that needed their help.

"Gambit, you are not medically cleared to leave the premises. We – _I_ – can't allow you to step out of the mansion. You can't fight us, and there's nothing you can do out there. The best thing you can do for anyone is recuperate."

Hank's footsteps stopped, which Remy should have taken as his leave, but instead he turned around. The anger built up over having kept idle bubbled to the surface. "Really? You _really_ t'ink dat, Hank? Is dat what we're all doin' den? We're jus' sittin' here 'cuperatin' while e'ryone else out der is still trapped in a hell hole?" Remy's eyes flicked over to Scott, as if accusing him for all of the inaction. "Where's Stormy, hein? She ain't back yet, an' you know who has her? _Sabretooth._ An enemy of da X-Men who's never shown mercy b'fore. He's killed my friends b'fore, an' I don' wanna see him do it again." Hank's mouth opened, but he shut it when Remy started up again. "Lemme ask you a better question. _Where's Rogue?_ Someone told me she dead. I don' remember when, I don' remember how, but I t'inkin' maybe dey right, an' dat's why none o' you out lookin' for 'er. You don' wanna tell me she is, 'fraid you'll damage my 'psych' or whatever.

"No one's out doin' anyt'ing, an' all you wanna do is keep me here – da only one fixin' t' do anyt'in' about dis – an' tell me I ain't fit. What are X-Men for? Tell me dat. We look af'er our own, or is dat all jus' a bunch o' lies? We help protect dos dat need our help. I don' see none o' dat goin' on! You know what I see? I see a bunch o' cowards sittin' around an' wallowin' 'cause some big bully stomped on our pride. I know I ain't da same. T'ings happened in dat prison dat I ain't ever gonna tell no one. T'ings happened in dat prison dat scared me. I know I ain't da only one. But we can't sit aroun' an' let somet'in' in da past beat us down. We gotta keep movin' forward an' find da people we love."

Scott avoided Remy's eye contact through most of his words. Remy noticed him shuffle his feet when Remy pointed out how useless the X-Men as a team was being. As soon as the ringing of Remy's words quit, however, he shifted back into his leadership attitude and stared Remy down through his ruby-screened vision. He pushed away all his insecurities and put on the mask he held as the team leader. Remy scowled at him, hating him for his lies, but he didn't say anything more about it. Everyone present in the room knew how right Remy was, but that didn't mean that they had to be wrong.

"Gambit, I know how you feel."

"Dat so? Right, 'cuz Jeanie's disappeared, too, non?" Remy barked sarcastically.

Scott's facial expression deepened into a scowl, but he didn't let Remy's taunting from breaking his composure completely.

"Remy, listen," Jean said, as if Remy's mentioning of her conjured her from nowhere. Remy rounded his furious gaze on her, daring her to add to the argument. "Your intentions are valiant."

"Indeed," Hank butted in.

Jean nodded slightly in acknowledgement of her old friend. "We know where you're coming from and why this means so much to you." Remy took a small step back, a grimace crossing his face. He didn't need Jean's reminder or insight into his current behavior. He needed out of the building. "However, if you go out there, you won't be of any good to anyone. You won't be able to hold your own, certainly against Sabretooth. If I give you my word, will you please give yourself a few more days to recover until Hank clears you?"

"Your word t' what?" Remy demanded.

"I'll do my best to find Rogue and to help Ororo. They're my friends, too. There isn't a night where I haven't gone to bed and tried to figure this out, but I'll redouble my efforts."

"So if I walk out right now, you'll give up." He didn't pose it as a question, but kept his voice flat throughout the sentence. "No. Da X-Men ain't workin' for me righ' now."

Scott straightened up. "Right now, Gambit?"

"I ne'er wanted t' join dis Godforsaken team t' begin wit'," Remy growled. A faint look of disappointment crossed Jean's face, but Remy ignored it, focusing his attention back on Scott. "Mon dieu, jus' let me go! Den what happens t' me won't be your fault."

Remy turned again, facing his back to the three opposing mutants. He took two steps towards the door when he felt furry hands around his arms, and then a voice in his head: _"I'm sorry I have to do this, Remy."_ The next second, Remy was back in his bed.

"Jean?" Remy asked out loud. He shuffled into a sitting position. No one else was in his room. He couldn't figure out how he had gotten there in the first place. He was just fighting with Cyclops. "Scott?" Remy tried. He still didn't receive an answer. Confused, Remy pushed the covers of his bed aside and stood up. He carefully tested his weight to make sure that he wouldn't topple to the ground before he trusted his balance to his full height. Once he was confident, he quickly moved on to walking over to his window. Remy needlessly glanced over his shoulder to check for spectators, casually scanned the mansion's extensive lawn for figures, and then opened the window wide. Pausing only to grab his coat with tools inside, Remy slipped both legs out the window and held his weight before letting himself drop the one story, rolling once he hit the ground to avoid further injury. The wounds on his back pulled, but he ignored the pain and popped right back up to his feet. His childhood instincts kicking into gear, Remy darted across the property, made it to the gate, and launched himself over. He had to leave his motorbike behind for the moment, but Remy knew how to get around without it. He set off at a brisk jog, ignoring the near immediate pain encompassing his body at each step. If they didn't take this as his resignation from the team, he didn't know what else he could do. So long as they didn't hunt him down, Remy was happy enough.

The sun was on the verge of slipping below the horizon by the time Remy made it to the nearby city on foot. He found himself unintentionally shrinking away from every car that passed by him as he walked down the side of the road, but after a couple dozen times he did it, he couldn't find the energy to berate himself about it anymore. As the sun began to disappear, the air immediately sank in temperature. Remy gathered up his coat around him, pulling it in tight to preserve what body heat he had left.

Remy nearly stumbled into the closest motel and walked right up to the check-in desk. He handed over a fake credit card he found left over from the government invasion, a crafted ID, and impatiently waited for a room key. Carefully grabbing it from the young man at the desk, Remy nodded his thanks, found his room, and collapsed on the bed without further fuss.

Beams of light leaked in heavily through the thin curtains covering the majority of the messy windows. Remy stirred, shifting his position enough for the light to hit him straight in the eyes. It took Remy a moment to move out of the direct sunlight again. Safe from the light, Remy focused on waking up, taking his time in getting out of bed as the old wounds pulled tight.

For the first time since arriving at the motel, Remy took off his coat and hung it in the designated area. He took out the most important items held within the pockets, including the key to get back into his room, and set them aside. Remy returned to the decaying mirror attached to the wall, studied his reflection for a moment, and removed his shirt with utmost care. The large wounds crisscrossing his back heavily protested, but Remy pretended as if they didn't exist at all. He showed his back to the mirror and looked over his shoulder as best he could. The welts that he had procured during his time in the prison had disappeared, and the scabs weren't as thick as they once were. His skin cleared up briefly as he looked down his arms, but the wounds started right up again at his wrists. Jean had gauze wrapped around those wounds and Remy wasn't about to take it off. He could feel the wounds itch minutely underneath the fabric. Remy turned around to study the front of his chest, which wasn't nearly as marked up as his back. He had a couple slashes that wrapped over his shoulders, as well as slimmer slices across his front, but most of everything was a yellowish color of old bruises. Frowning, Remy carefully pulled his shirt over his head again and walked out the door. He'd asked for the room a week up front, but he needed to find another place to stay more permanently.

Remy didn't have to walk a block in the city to begin feeling the seeds of exhaustion all over again. He pushed the lethargy aside, determined. He knew the library wasn't far off, and from there he could kick start not only a search for residency, but also a search for Chiyo and Ororo.

"Da place is perfect," Remy stated flatly.

The man cast him a sidelong glance, skepticism flashing behind his eyes. The place was a dump; the beginnings of mold gathered in the corners of the bathroom, the bedroom's carpet was ripped up in various places along the edges, and the kitchen was missing a couple key appliances. Whatever the faults, the place was cheap, and that's all Remy cared about for the moment.

"Hundred deposit?"

"Yeah. If you'd come to my office –"

Remy turned to the shorter man, his dark eyes creating a more foreboding look than he meant. "How 'bout we keep dis on the down low? You get my word ain't not'in' gonna happen here, an' rent an' a half t' keep out da gov'rment. Two hundred deposit."

"Cash?"

"Cash only," Remy nodded and dug a couple bills out of his pocket.

The man's eyes flitted from the wadded up money in Remy's hand to his face. Remy didn't have to be a trained body language reader to understand the debate going on his head.

His patience running out, Remy brought the money back into himself. "Den again, if'n dat ain't good 'nuff for you, I could go find another place. Leave you itchin' f'r money, non?"

"No, no, that's fine," the man assured Remy. He grabbed the money from Remy's hands without appearing too greedy. "First of every month, your money's due."

"D'accord." Remy strode into the bedroom and dumped his coat on the ground, which contained all of his belongings. "You'll get it." He turned around, his eyes flashing. "Promise." Without further argument, the man closed the door behind him, leaving Remy to his new quarters.

"Guess I been in worse places," Remy mused to himself.

Remy waited until twilight fell before he returned the mansion. He watched the figures in the windows, carefully avoiding the bedroom windows for discretion. It'd been ten days since he left the place, and while no one came looking for him, he didn't want to show up and argue his way out of a painful situation all over again. He'd much rather avoid confrontation as he gathered up the rest of his belongings.

Lights continued to switch on throughout the large building, but Remy didn't let them deter him. Their guard would be lax at this time as the mutants finished off dinner or got ready for bed. They'd be completely consumed in their own activities, but Remy wouldn't have to worry about them running into him outside.

He paced the fence until he found an area where he could launch himself over the fence and have a short dash across the grounds until he got to the garage. Remy's muscles protested as he climbed the pillar over the metal spikes, but the pains weren't sharp as they were before. He wasn't healed, but he was getting better. His feet struggled for purchase when he reached the top, but a careful twist of his torso and he was falling gracefully to land on the ground. Pain shot down the length of both of his legs, exemplified only by the healing wounds, but that didn't stop Remy from taking off in a brisk jog across the deep green lawn. He glanced up at the main windows, but no one concerned themselves with looking out on the grounds.

Remy reached the garage without a problem. He slowed down to a walk as soon as he hit pavement and took his time in dodging the insufficient floodlights he knew existed. He doubted anyone would notice them flashing on, since the wind often triggered their sensors, but he would rather not take the risk. He slinked down a wall with his back carefully pressed against the siding, turning on his heel when he reached the garage's side door. Pulling out a lock pick from his jeans pocket, Remy crouched nearly eye-level with the door handle and popped it open. Turning the knob and simultaneously stuffing the kit into his pocket again, Remy slipped into the cavernous room and shut the door behind him. He quickly typed in the general code into the informal alarm system to prevent an ambush, reverting back to elementary skills. Unused to this entrance, he had to then fish around for the light switch, but had no doubts as to whether or not to turn the lights on.

The sudden brightness briefly caught Remy off-guard even at his own hands, but as soon as his eyes adjusted he looked around for his bike. A broad smile spread across Remy's face once he found it. He ran a hand across the worn leather of the seat before he grabbed the handles and wheeled it right back out of the door he came from. The floodlight flashed on, but Remy paid it no attention. He did quickly glance up at the nearest window to make sure that he hadn't caught anyone's eye, but at that point he didn't care much. He had his bike, he was free of the X-men, and he could finally complete his own mission. He already had a good idea where Ororo was.

Thanks to the expansive crowd the mansion appealed to, as well as the history of the place, Remy had quite a distance to cover from where he stood to the mansion's gates. He stopped after walking in view of the heavy metal gates closed in his way. He stole another quick glance up at the windows, hopped on his bike, and kicked it to life. It roared unnaturally loud over the night's quiet song, interrupting the spring frogs' songs. He didn't care to look up at the mansion again, but eased off the brake and road the bike down the driveway. He jumped off just to open the gates from the inside, and left without shutting them behind him. They could deal with it later.

"Au revoir," Remy muttered under his breath as the bike glided down the road's smooth pavement.

Remy could have gone back to his temporary home for another night of recuperation, but if he had done that, he would have been no better than the other X-Men protected within their mansion. He still didn't have his physical prowess back, but he didn't have a problem with many of the movements that would be required of him. Breaking into the mansion had proven that much.

Taking a couple turns, Remy eventually found himself on a loosely packed dirt driveway leading him through a dark and ominous pack of trees. Briars and other foreboding plants twisted their way through the otherwise fluffy underbrush, creating an almost impenetrable barrier to the property beyond the driveway. A few hundred feet down the path, Remy switched off his bike and tucked it as close to the brush as he could. From there, he walked.

Just as he could see the lights from the building in which Remy was positive Sabretooth was holding up in, he heard movement from within the woods. He paused his step, listening hard. It hadn't been loud, but from what he heard, whatever had caused it was something large. Remy's heart beat harder within his chest for fear of someone stalking him down for being so close to a dangerous building. He wasn't ready to use his powers again and he didn't know if he could put up a very good fight.

A couple seconds passed and the crashing continued through the woods, but as he listened he realized that if it was a trap of some sort, the person stalking him wouldn't be quite so loud. No, whomever this was was in a hurry.

Deciding the crashing wasn't a threat at all, Remy leaped straight into a more friendly looking patch of scrub and pushed through the thorns that tore at his jeans and leather coat. A couple caught on his hands as he walked forward, but all he could do was pull his hand away and hope the damage was minimal. He tried to be as quiet as he possibly could, though he wasn't sure how good of a job he was doing. All he had to do was follow the sounds.

When he was close, Remy decided to take a chance. "Stormy?" he called. He didn't make his voice as loud as he could, but he needed to project enough so that the person could hear him. "Stormy!"

He saw a flash of white hair as a figure turned to face him. Relief flooded through Remy's body despite his mission not being over yet.

"I do not know what trick you are playing, Mystique, but you will not get away with it!" Ororo shouted at him. She lifted up her hands and moved her body in a way that suggested she was ready to fight, but one look at her and Remy knew she wouldn't stand a chance against anyone. Even he wouldn't have a problem overtaking her.

Remy stopped advancing on her and instead gave her the distance she would need to recover. "Stormy, chere … I dunno what happened in der, but I tell you I'm Gambit. I'm so sorry it took me so long t' get here for ya, but I here now." He paused and diverted his eyes, gathering his wits about him again. "We been friends for a while now, non?" he asked her, looking back to her face. "You know me an' I know you. Dis – dis ain't you. Da Storm I know would know me from a fake.

"Don' go attackin' me now. I got 'nuff troubles." He faced his palms towards her and then pulled up the sleeves of his coat to show the scars he had finally uncovered from the prison around his wrist. He saw Storm's hesitant look and quickly covered the scars back up. They were still nastily colored enough that she wouldn't have a problem seeing them, even in the dark.

As soon as Remy hid the marks in his flesh, a ghost of a smile flashed across Ororo's face. "Don't call me Stormy," she halfheartedly berated him. "Are the others okay?"

Remy returned the smile and pushed through the briars to get to her and give her a hug. He didn't want to answer her right away, and what better excuse than a real hello? "Last I seen … dey doin' fine," he answered carefully.

"Thank the Goddess," Ororo breathed. Remy nodded his agreement. "How far is the mansion from here?"

"Not far," he told her. "Couple minutes ride."

His eyes caught sight of the neutralizer collar still around her neck, and his eyes narrowed. "You di'n't get dis off?" Remy asked her sharply, reaching up to touch it.

Ororo dropped her gaze. "No."

"I can … I can take it off, but I can't guarantee it'll be clean." He'd taken Cloak's collar off in the mansion, but that could have been out of pure luck for all he knew.

"Understood," Ororo said firmly. "I just want it off."

Remy stooped in closer to get a better look at the device nestled so closely to her skin. Within a couple seconds he could deduce that it was probably the exact same collar that she had at the prison and Creed hadn't bothered to take it off her. "Hold still," he murmured and pulled the lock pick set out of his pocket again. Before he started with the lock, he asked her, "You mind pullin' yer shirt up under da collar … jus' in case?" Ororo did as he asked, and within a minute he had the collar off in his hands. He dropped it on the ground, stomping it into the leaf covered ground.

"How 'bout we get outta here?" he suggested.

Ororo softly ran her hand around her neck, flinching whenever her fingers touched an unhealed wound. Remy gritted his teeth in anger, but he didn't bring it up. "Yes, please," she told him.

Remy offered her a hand, which she took, and he began leading her the way he had come. A few of the leafy plants were shoved aside during his first trip through the woods, but the thorny plants remained to grab at their clothes. After a couple pauses in which Ororo tore thorns out of her tattered dress or skin, Remy draped his coat around her shoulders before continuing onward. They took their time in going through the woods until they happened on Remy's bike again. "You don' mind?"

Ororo shook her head, waited for him to kick the bike back to life, and climbed on behind him. The arms she placed around his torso weren't as strong as he was used to, so he moved slowly down the rural roads until he reached the open gates of the mansion.

"Dis is where I leave you," he told her. He remained on the bike as she got off and looked at him expectantly.

"What?"

"You can make it t' da mansion, right?" he asked her while avoiding her question.

"Yes," she replied. He saw her shoulders heave in a sigh despite her back being turned, and watched as she made her way down the driveway to safety. He put the bike in gear again when she reached the door and knocked for someone to let her in. He'd done some good for the night, but his mission wasn't yet complete. He still had to find Chiyo and Rogue.


	15. Chapter 15

Relentless and unforgiving tasks were exhausting. Even though his mission had started just under a year ago, with the brief setback, he had forgotten how hard it was to find someone that either was hidden or did not want to be found. He figured Chiyo was hidden by some outside force, but he couldn't figure out Rogue's situation.

He was still stationed not far from the X-Men's station in Salem because he knew that Sayuri wouldn't be far away. At least, hope was all he could do. He didn't have any leads to follow. It didn't leave him a lot of time to himself with the overhanging worry, but every now and again he'd set aside a break for his brain.

When going out in public places, Remy tried to keep his appearance as low-key as he possibly could. He didn't have any more attention than he could attract, especially from those on the X-Men team thanks to the way he left. Leather jeans and blue jeans weren't too much of a problem, even though the weather was warm outside. Most people were walking around in shorts and tennis shoes at this point, but Remy knew there were people that never wore anything but pants out in public. He had enough healing scars that he'd rather they be covered up than in plain sight. He had on a plain beige t-shirt as well, but over top that he wore a leather jacket. He left his usual long coat at the apartment, fearing it would be too recognizable. The leather jacket wasn't too heavy, especially since Remy made sure it didn't have any lining inside to make it too hot, but he needed a way to cover up his wrists more than anything. The scars – finally scabbed over and shrinking in size – were much too visually attracting. They were still much darker than his skin tone and left little mobility for his wrist, and he didn't want any questions from anyone. It didn't hurt much anymore, especially if he refrained from moving his wrists too much, but that didn't mean he could still cause himself pain.

Remy parked his bike in one of the furthest spots away from the entrance of the mall. He didn't mind the walk. He'd come to the mall to calm his frayed nerves anyway. A walk wouldn't be detrimental to the cause. The skies above were overcast, but he didn't detect a threat of rain. Worst case scenario he'd have to get away from someone fast. Leaving the mall on his bike would be too conspicuous. Merging into the crowd in the mall was more to his style.

Not long after he walked into the doors of the mall, he had the tickling feeling that he was being watched. Remy didn't give much merit to the feeling, though he allowed it to simmer in the back of his mind. If he picked up a tail, he knew how to get rid of it if he really tried. He wasn't doing anything that he was afraid a spy of anyone would try and utilize. Remy wasn't sure why a spy would be interested in his activities in the first place.

As Remy walked down the wide hallways of the mall, he gave some of his attention to the stores and the goods within, but since he didn't have a lot of money on him, he didn't care much. He was a thief, but that didn't mean he could steal anything willy-nilly off the shelves as he pleased. Once he made it to the heart of the mall with a balcony looking down on the level below, he slowed down. He people watched.

A couple to the right of him, still awkward with each other's presence, was sharing a tiny, teetering table with a couple pretzels between them. The guy appeared to say something funny, and the girl laughed with pretzel still in her mouth. Her hands immediately flew up to her mouth and her face flashed red. The guy only adopted a smile.

A tiny girl, only around the age of five, was standing near the glass barrier between the floor on her feet and the significant drop to the ground below. She turned around with a panicked glance as if she had lost her guardian. Her hand trailed down the painted metal post holding up the glass slabs as she wandered further, starting to call out "Mom." Remy merely watched during her struggles. She eventually wandered off and out of sight without resolve.

"You know about five people are worried about you right now?" someone asked right beside Remy.

Remy had been watching her recent maneuvers, though he had inherently failed in watching her walk right up to him. Her clothes were out of place for the crowd they were within. Without even knowing her, Remy knew that she was X-Men. Leather cat suit covered with a leather coat and red glasses over her eyes.

"Sage," he muttered before turning to her. "Di'n't know dat so many people concerned wit' how I am af'er I leave. I quit. Tell 'em dat I got my life under control."

He turned away quickly on his heel and briskly walked away from her. Sage was a no-nonsense person, but he didn't want her near him. She always knew too much. He hoped she wouldn't follow him, though he knew that it wouldn't be that easy getting away from her.

It took Sage a while to catch up with him, but it was still faster than he was expecting. "Now that was just rude," she stated as simply as she would tell him the weather. "Believe it or not, I am not concerned about whether or not you stay or go. I just want to know two things."

Remy sighed, figuring he might as well listen. She didn't appear to want him back. Anyone from the X-Men could easily wear two faces, and Sage was easily one of those people. He could play right into her game, but he hoped that he could stay one step ahead. It was a gamble, but there was a reason he was nicknamed the way he was.

"Shoot, but der ain't no guarantee I gonna answer t'ings da way you want me to."

Sage appeared as happy as she could be when he didn't leave her again. She shifted her weight onto one leg and stared into his face for a moment before answering. Her presence in the middle of the mall was a bit unnerving,. He was glad he met her here instead of some other place. "I need information on who this is," she said and handed him the glasses off of her face.

Remy cautiously took them from her hand and slowly lifted them up to his face. His eyes widened in surprise when he took in the profile pulled up on the transparent lenses of the glasses. Essex. He was looking at Essex in one of his disguises. Essex was the only person it could be.

"Why?" Remy asked coldly.

Sage took the glasses back from Remy before answering him. "Many reasons. He has been calling himself out to be an expert on mutants and to have the ability to work past any mutant problem. He started to work at a nearby hospital. He has been treating some mutants and we are not sure he has been doing with the samples he has taken from them." She paused and looked him straight in the face. "And most importantly, how does he know you, Remy?"

Remy acknowledged each of her points with a curt nod. He wasn't much interested in the first point. The second point was a bit odd, but not completely out of place. For her third point, he was surprised in the least bit. Sinister had a habit of doing such a thing.

Her hard approach didn't warrant such miniscule questions. Even her last point, the one that concerned him, seemed obsolete given their situation.

He raised any eyebrow at her. "'Kay?"

"Just remember you owe someone, Remy."

Remy turned his back on her again, ready to move. She was smart enough to figure everything out on her own, especially so with the help of the X-Men.

"Keep in mind that I can find this out. There's little I can't." There. That was the catch. "Such as the location of certain people."

She expected him to turn right back around and fall for it. She'd been building up to his part in the whole thing all along. When he did turn around, showing her she had raised his curiosity, he saw her beginning to turn around. She must have realized he wasn't actually leaving, though, because with his feet planted firmly, she spoke right up again.

"I mean I can find someone you lost." With her finger's aide, her glasses slowly slid down to the tip of her nose, her eyes burning into his.

"What do I owe? Who I lose?" He wondered who she was thinking about. If she had information on Rogue, he might have to bite.

"I can track anyone down. Anyone you would want to find anywhere." Remy still hadn't received his answer. "In return I want simple information about the guy I showed you."

Her hook had been cast, but Remy wasn't about to bite. "Right now, I know where everyone I want t' know is." He wasn't going to get help in finding Chiyo. That was his job and his job alone. Pride, cockiness, and dominance crept into his voice for the first time in months. "Der won't be no exchange. Your time was wasted, chere. Ain't gonna get not'in' from me."

"Even the Asian girl?" Sage asked. Her head tilted to the side, her glasses firmly perched on her nose. She was playing him the entire time. Smart girl. Remy would have been more impressed if she was stringing him along like a dog on a chain. "The one you made a promise to?" She was a lot smarter than she ever really let on.

"How much you know 'bout dat?" he asked her more threateningly than he had hoped. "Dat was 'tween me an' her in da prison. No one else knew 'bout dat." This really begged the question of why she needed his help to get to Sinister. She knew personal information about him and he doubted she even knew the name to the man she showed him. Remy was beginning to get irritated with her antics and very unwilling to play her games.

"I know everything there is to know about you, Gambit. Your youth in New Orleans. The Thieves Guild. How you vanished from there because of your powers. You name it. Including what happened to you in the prison. Chiyo included. I know your promise, Gambit, and how you haven't lived up to it. I know where she is now."

Remy breathed in, his nostrils clinching with the force of the breath. He shouldn't show his anger to her. He shouldn't be angry from her mere words. What would she do to him?

"Been busy, chere," he told her.

"You wait any longer there won't be much left to save." She twirled around, making to leave him. Leaving him hanging, no doubt.

"What do you mean?" he asked her softly. Sage appeared not to notice.

"Sometimes the choices you make aren't the ones needed at that moment in time," Sage continued. "You trusted Xavier once. All he asks is for you to do it one more time."

"Ain't goin' back der," Remy replied firmly to her back. It wasn't until the words were out of his mouth that he realized that may not have been what she meant to get across. If that were the case, he couldn't think of any other obvious reason behind her words.

Frustration sprouted in his core. She was beginning to walk away, leaving him with a choice. Remy could either leave all alone and forget about Chiyo – yet another skeleton to file away in his closet – or he could sacrifice his pride and go after Sage and make the deal she had come up to him with. After a huff, he darted forward and caught her shoulder. "What do you mean?" he demanded. He needed to know what Xavier had to do with anything.

Sage stopped when Remy put a hand on her shoulder. She heaved a huge sigh before turning around. Once again, her hand went for her glasses, and she shoved them onto Remy's nose. "I am not sure about you … but you decide when she needs saving."

Remy watched as a ghost image of a large, savage cat dragged Sayuri through a woods. Appearing satisfied with the place, he stopped his forward motion and started stripping her with his fangs. Whenever she struggled, his fangs turned to her throat, pinning her in place.

Reluctantly, Remy removed the glasses and handed them back to Sage. "Fine," he told her flatly. She carefully took the ruby glasses back, but didn't put them on. "What do you need?"

"Simple," Sage replied calmly. "Go find the Asian girl."

She replaced the glasses on her nose. Her eyebrows moved closer together for a second before she spoke again. "I'll give you a location. I suggest you hurry."

Remy didn't have time to reply before she grabbed his hand a shoved an electronic device into his palm. He held it up to his face and returned his gaze to her. "Right. Wonder how much time ya could'a saved if you di'n't come t' me."

Sage acted as if she didn't hear his comment. "Go now. I'll keep you updated on his position with the communicator."

"So dat's it?" Remy asked.

"Go."

With a hesitant step, Remy moved away from the place they stood. The couple had disappeared from their table, drips of cheese across the surface. The girl was still missing. A mall cop cruising around on a segue appeared to have some sort of mission. Remy wondered if it related to the girl and her missing mother.

Despite Sage's concern, Remy wasn't very pressed in moving quickly through the mall or parking lot. He took his time in the walk as he had planned when choosing his spot. Once he made it to his bike, he positioned the communicator to talk through to Sage. With it in place, he kicked his bike to life and followed her specific instructions.

Remy turned his bike off again at the edge of a distant road at the edge of what he assumed was the woods he would find Chiyo at. He pushed through the low branches and brambles and brush underneath his foot, growing grumpier with each step. He hadn't expected help when he said that he would find Chiyo, and while he knew he needed to comply with Sage's instructions, he didn't much want to.

He didn't know how long he needed to be out there. Sage wasn't telling him. The branches were snagging on his clothes and the brambles caught at his jeans. The trek was tiring and long.

"She should be around there," Sage told him.

"Sayuri?" Remy called out. He stepped through a wall of green and there on the other side he saw her meek form. "Sayuri!"

She didn't reply, nor did she move. Moving quickly, Remy dropped to her side. She was in sad shape. Worse than the way she looked in the prison. Her clothes were ripped into shreds around the area, leaving her with nothing to be warm. Her skin was cool to the touch and her breathing shallow. It was chillier in the woods, but she shouldn't have been that cold.

Moving quickly, Remy pulled his shirt over his head and gently moved Chiyo to face him.

"Remy?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"Oui, Chiyo. C'est moi." Using one hand to support her, he pulled his shirt over her head and body. It wouldn't provide her much warmth, but he figured it would work. Once it was wrapped around her torso, he picked her up in his arms. "I'm sorry, chere. I should have found ya faster."

"Not your fault," she whispered. Her face pressed against his chest. "You didn't know."

"I'm gettin' you outta here," he told her. She wasn't heavy in his arms. She wasn't a cumbersome bundle. In fact, he didn't have a problem getting her out of the woods at all. Holding her, he was more careful with his step, but that didn't make the trip feel any longer than before. She had fallen asleep sometime near the beginning of their trip and no matter how much Remy jostled her she didn't wake up again. He knew it was a bad sign, but all he could do was get her out of there.

Remy made it back to his bike in the sun's downward arch. He shouldn't have tried doing what he planned on doing, but he didn't feel like he had any choice. He set her up in front of him, between his arms, and carefully – slowly – made his way down the road. Remy pulled his coat out from the storage on his bike, draped it across her body to help her keep what little warmth she had left.

It took him much longer than it should have, but eventually he ended up front of the only place he could think that would help him. Without turning of his bike, Remy scooped Sayuri up in his arms again, settled down against the fence, and pulled out his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he came across Ororo's name. She answered on the second ring.

"Who is this?"

"Stormy, I need your help."

"Remy, don't call me that."

"Listen, chere. I'm outside da gate wit' a mutant I met at da prison. I need you t' help her. She's dying."

"Remy?"

"Maybe I can explain later, chere. Hurry, s'il vous plait."

"Yes. I'll be there in a minute."

Remy hung up the phone without saying goodbye. Unconsciously, he pulled Chiyo closer and listened to the rhythm of her breathing. Her extremities were freezing, but her head was burning up. Remy would be surprised if she made it out of this experience alive.

"Remy?"

"'Ro, dis is Sayuri Chiyo."

"What happened?"

"Not really sure. Bet Sage will know. You can take her in an' Jean or Hank will help her, non?"

"Of course. Remy, why don't you come back?"

"Dis place ain't for me anymore, chere. I … I need t' find Rogue now."

Storm placed a hand on his face, catching his eyes with her bright blue ones, but she didn't question him any further. Instead, she held out her arms for Remy to transfer Chiyo's meager weight into them.

"Take care, Storm. I'll be in touch."

"Yes, Remy. Be careful."

Remy turned his back on his old friend and moved back to his bike. Storm stood in front of the gate for a moment with Remy's coat still draped over Chiyo's form. When Remy turned around again, his seat firmly planted on the bike, she was gone. Once again, Remy was alone.


	16. Chapter 16

Remy sat in his balcony overlooking the grime-filled road below. He only had one fold-up chair outside, but it was enough to be comfortable with a beer in hand. He hadn't heard anything from Storm with word about Chiyo, but he found that he didn't care about her state of mind now that he had her out of harm's way. He couldn't even bring himself to care about his apathetic state of mind in the matter, either.

Nothing had happened by the time he finished his bottle of beer. A car had driven by halfway through the bottle. Red Subaru or some other foreign car of matching body type. Most of everyone else had gone to bed by this time of night, even this close to New York City. The only exception was the light in his neighboring apartment across the street.

Remy set his empty bottle on the balcony banister, leaning against it with his chin on his hands and his butt stuck out behind him. He still hadn't heard anything from Rogue. Her cell phone had been disconnected and he couldn't find any paper trail beyond that. He supposed he taught the girl well. That didn't explain why she wasn't talking to him. The only feasible possibility was the same one he had conjured just before breaking out.

Rogue was dead.

He felt it in his gut. He knew it was the logical explanation. He wasn't going to see that girl again.

"Oi! Cajun!"

Remy's head snapped up from its resting position on the balcony railing. The empty bottle of beer was sent cascading to the cement two stories below him, crashing into pieces upon impact.

"Raven?" Remy questioned. He squinted across the gap between him and her, but the light of her apartment was obscuring his view. "How da hell you end up here?" he shouted across to her.

"I could ask you the same thing," she called back. She glanced around for a second, as if checking both sides to cross the street, and then proceeded to float up into the air and across the gap, straight to the railing on Remy's balcony. Remy took a step back, a little surprised. For some reason, he didn't expect her to have a mutant power.

"You look good," she said to him in a normal voice. "Last time I saw you, you were covered in bumps, scrapes, and rather attractive purpley-black bruising." A tone of teasing took place in her voice, but Remy was positive that she had found his disheveled state attractive. She certainly seemed the type.

"You made it out of the prison, then, and apparently all in one piece. I don't see any missing limbs or appendages, unless of course it's hidden."

Remy returned her shot at pleasantry with a smirk. "Attractive bruises, chere? You found your place in dat prison." His smirk faltered at the mention of the prison. He was still having a hard time moving on from the prison. Remy was sure that some people were able to pick up on it, but if it was casually thrown out there, he tried not to give it any reaction. It almost always put him in a nasty mood, but with Raven around he was able to maintain the casual, friendly conversation.

"Okay, maybe the bruises weren't all that attractive, but sometimes it can give a good insight into a person. Like with you it told me that nothing really stops you from doing silly things."

Remy rolled his eyes and took a step closer to his sliding apartment door. Raven was hovering over the guard rail now, slowly bouncing up and down in the air. "Y'know, makin' it outta da prison wasn't part o' my plan, but someone took care in gettin' me out." He almost said it out loud, but he wasn't about to tell her that he was the reason everyone got out of the prison. She was one of the guards, after all. Their conversation now was bizarre enough. "An' I assure you, I ain't missin' not'in' physically."

"Believe it or not, I somewhat helped with that escape. I got wind of something not long before it happened and with the right twisting of words I ended up releasing the jail cells. I just thought it was a hoot if there was a prison riot. I didn't care if people got out or not." Raven's eyes stared off in space for a moment, a ghost of a smile flickering to her face. "It gave me an excuse to get out of there, though. Even the likes of me get bored after a while."

Then again, Remy could have been wrong about her. She definitely wasn't a typical guard around the prison. She had way too much leeway to have been a normal guard. He just didn't expect her to help the mutants in escaping, though her reveal of her own powers helped justified her reasons.

"You one funny lady, chere," he told her in amusement. Ladies like her, with as much character as she had, were the type of ladies he liked.

"Me? Funny? I've been called crazy numerous times, but never funny. Though I guess it can be seen as weird that I gave a helping hand. Not that it did me much good. I didn't get out of there of my own accord; had a run in with someone who didn't appreciate what I did to them. Still here I am, fit as a fiddle."

Remy's smirk spread into a smile. "You jus' been called funny, chere. Times change, non?"

"Times sure do," she murmured. She continued floating in the air, but now she stared off into space.

Taking the last step he could take to the sliding door, Remy gestured to Raven. "Don' jus' float der all day, chere. You welcome here." He was still a little wary around her presence, but she had never wronged him yet. Besides, it was polite to let a lady in and rest.

Raven floated up at first and lowered herself to sit in the balcony railing. "Thank, Cajun," she told him.

"It only right t' give you a place t' rest instead o' flyin' around all day. 'Less you have somet'in' t' do, I don' t'ink dis reuinion'll be dat short."

"Believe me when I say I have nothing better to do. Been keeping my own company lately, so really it's good to see a familiar face." She offered him a warm, relaxed smile. Remy was willing to bet he'd seen the softer side of her within the prison, but he was now seeing the woman she hid inside and underneath her prison exterior. Part of Remy wished he could offer her the same benefit but at the same time he knew he couldn't. He had to stay on his toes.

"So what have you been doing since the good ol' days?" she asked him.

Remy nodded his agreement. "I believe you alrigh'." Everyone he had found so far, he'd left behind. He only had one more person to find and he was convinced that she was a lost cause. "Gettin' myself int' trouble, chere. Can't imagine anyt'in' more fun, hein?" he explained with a playful tone and devilish smile.

"You? Trouble? Somehow that doesn't surprise me one bit. Trouble behind bars and trouble out of bars. Bet you've got a line of girls waiting on you, too." Raven chuckled, her smile widening.

"Wasn't trouble so much _b'hind_ bars, chere," he contradicted her with a smile. "Was pretty complacent in da cell." It was true. Remy didn't cause much trouble when he was in his own little space. "Everywhere else – dat a dif'rent story." Despite his attempts at maintaining a casual conversation, he threw a wink in her direction.

"I think you might be right there," Raven agreed. Remy was sure he knew how well he had behaved. "I do remember you being very good inside the bars and if memory serves very good in another light, too. I'm sure you can remember that all by yourself." She wiggled her chest and chuckled with a reminiscing smile running over her lips.

Remy returned her smile before coming up with his own question: "You been keepin' a low profile?"His eyes swept over Raven's body, looking for anything out of place. From what he could see, she was still exactly the way he had last seen her, but that didn't mean that nothing was wrong. She appeared more relaxed, but also more subdued.

"Low profile girl. That's me, at least for a while. Just needed to get myself away for a while; stay away from the folks that have gotten on my bad side. Would've been a massacre on my hands if I hadn't."

He didn't answer right away, but studied her with quiet scrutiny. Raven often didn't say much about herself. Instead, she'd change the topic to talk about him. When she did talk about herself, she'd do so in a joking manner or wouldn't say much. This time wasn't much different, but it did spark Remy's curiosity.

"I ain't got not'in' against you, chere," he finally said a low, smooth voice. He realized he was probably one of the only ones due to her notoriousness within the prison, but he figured his opinion might account for something.

"It's probably a good thing that you are on my good side. 'Cause I don't think I could predict how I would be otherwise." Still sitting on the edge of the balcony, eye level with the Cajun, she ran her finger across her lips and smiled. "I'm not really coming across as my normal self am I." She phrased it as a question, but it didn't sound like a question at all to Remy. It was a statement.

"I'll count my blessin's," he told her quickly with a wink. His smile soon faded, however, and he looked across the gap in the buildings, studying the brick on the other side. "T' be honest, chere, I not really sure what your normal self is like." Remy continued studying the side of the other building for a moment before returning his gaze to her. "You always been like dis 'round me." That didn't mean that this was her true self that he knew was underneath; it meant that this was the front that she continued to put up around him. It was a lot softer than he probably deserved, but it was also nice knowing that she wasn't a monster. She was struggling as much as anyone.

"Yeah, I guess I do act a bit off around you, not that I have a clue why." Raven shook her head softly. "Even away from here though I've been different. Before I was much more controlled and now I find myself losing my temper so much easily."

Remy didn't know what to say in response to that. He tried coming up with a couple reasons as to why she had less control over her feelings, but nothing seemed to fit. Leaving it alone was probably his best bet.

"You haven't got any alcohol in this place of yours, have you?"

Remy's eyes flicked past Raven to where his beer bottle had fallen below. It was the last bit of alcohol that he knew of. "Might have somet'in' simple in da kitchen. I don' drink dat often." He placed his door on the handle of the sliding door and pushed it aside. "Why don' we go look?"

Raven nodded and dropped her feet to the ground of the balcony. "You do surprise me," she told him. "Don't know why, but I always took you to be quite a drinker." She strolled into Remy's apartment as she spoke. Following right after, he closed the door.

"I surprise you?" Remy questioned. It was his turn for surprise. He felt like he had been an open book as of late with his emotions right at the surface for anyone to read. Nothing felt like a secret anymore. Anything he thought was out for anyone to procure.

"You've surprised me from the very moment I first set eyes on you. And so far you've yet to stop surprising me. You're probably the hardest person to read at all."

The shocked melted away to amusement. As Remy walked through the living room to t he kitchen, he replied, "You're jus' sayin' dat. Have a seat, chere."

He didn't have a whole lot in the apartment. It was still as nasty as it was when he first set foot into it, but he didn't spend enough time inside the walls to really care. He'd been searching for the impossible.

"Not particularly. Mostly whenever I think I'm starting to figure you out, whatever I'm thinking about you just ends up going right out the window. Besides, I quite like the challenge of at least trying to get it right."

Remy heard her throw herself onto the broken down sofa he picked up from off the side of a street. The springs squeaked in protest against her weight, which was quite a feat due to her small stature. From the kitchen arch, Remy turned around and raised a brow at her.

"You're prob'ly right 'bout most o' it, chere. Jus' you can' fit all da pieces t'gether." Remy could relate to the pleasure she gleaned from the game. It was something that he often played on other people that he had just met. Deciding on which girl was easy or not wasn't fun; it was always choosing the personality within the girl.

She didn't give him a reply to that so Remy took it as a win in his favor. It was never an argument, but it was conflicting views.

"So how long you been hiding away here for?" she asked him.

"How long?" Remy echoed. He returned to his kitchen and looked through the fridge, but didn't find anything in there. "Don' know. Took me a while t' recover from da breakout, an' once I did, I left da X-Men. Af'er dat …" Remy trailed off as he searched the meager supplies in the kitchen. "Wandered 'round, found dis place, rented it out f'r a while. Not sure how long."

As Remy looked through the cupboards, his eyes fell on an unopened wine bottle. A small grin flashed across his face as he picked it up, carefully grabbing two glasses on his exit.

"You spent time with the X-Men?" Raven almost laughed and Remy was willing to bet it was out of distaste. "Boy, I bet that was fun. Least it was short lived. Besides, I wouldn't be here now if you were still with them. They're the last group on earth I would ever go near. Brotherhood is somewhat obsessed with them, so that's off-putting."

"You'd prob'ly be surprised if you found out what dey really were," Remy told her seriously. He wasn't overly fond of the group as of late, but that didn't mean he hated them. He had friends on the team and he trusted Xavier's word. Raven's obvious dislike of the team was almost off-putting, but he wasn't going to let her hate ruin the mood. She'd have her own opinions. That's how life went.

"Well then. You could always tell me and see if either one of is right." With that string of conversation pulling to a close, Raven shifted so that her feet were underneath her. She eyed up the bottle in Remy's hands. "You better crack that bottle open," she told him.

"Right on," Remy replied with a smile to match hers. He set the glasses down on the table in front of her, found a screw to take out the cork, and poured the two of them some wine. Sitting down on the couch beside her, he handed her the glass and held up his own. "Cheers."

Raven tilted her glass to clink against his. "Cheers to you, too," she said in response before taking a sip.

Remy took a sip from his own glass and immediately sat it down on the table. "Where da hell I get dis stuff?" he muttered. Wine wasn't at all to his tastes, yet he had mysteriously found it within his cupboards. He was disappointed it was the only alcohol he had in his possession anymore. Drinking didn't sound like a bad idea that night at all.

"You live here long?" Remy asked. He turned to face her better, leaning his elbow against the back of the sofa to get a better placement.

"Now that question can be answered in a couple of ways. There's the going by the apartment where I've been there on and off for a few months. Or there's the being in the country in general, which it's been a few years now."

"Jus' da first one," Remy said with a smirk.

"Just ask me though if you want to find out more. Got no reason to hide anything. Not at the moment anyway," she clarified.

"Simply askin' t'ings ain't my style," Remy told her after a long moment. Asking for questions was asking for trouble. "Why? Got anyt'in' you'd like t' share?"

Raven shook her head instead of saying anything. Rather than say anything she sipped at the wine in her glass. Remy's remained on the table forgotten. He'd rather remain sober than suffer through the taste of the alcohol.

"You ever feel alone, Cajun?" Raven asked out of the blue.

Once again, Remy didn't answer her right away. He was interested in where the question came from, but he wasn't going to answer her question with one of his own. "Yeah, plenty'a times," he told her truthfully. He didn't feel like venturing into detail about it, instead letting her hang onto the vagueness.

"Loneliness is a funny thing. Can make a person do all sorts of things." Remy wondered where all of this was coming from. Her voice was slightly more vacant than before, but she was totally out of it. No, she was certainly all there. She leaned forward and studied Remy's face, her finger trailing down his cheek. When her finger rested on her chin, she said, "Not all of which are bad."

Remy watched her as she leaned forward for all the good it did. He closed his eyes to her touch, finding that he missed touch. He didn't realize that he could be so starved from it. When she reached his chin, he opened his eyes again and brought his own hand up to her cheek. She felt like she was a little startled by the touch though she didn't jerk away. She appeared to lean into his touch a bit. Leaning forward, Remy caught her lips with his own. She returned the kiss promptly, pressing into him. The fingers on his cheek made its way up to his hair, entwining into the long mess atop his head.

A hot, urgent need arose within his core. She wasn't kidding when she said loneliness makes a person do crazy things. He wanted her company so badly. He needed her right then. He was too desperate in getting her closer.

She opened her mouth in an invitation to deepen the kiss. He brushed his tongue across her bottom lip. His hand pressed into the small of her back, his arms pulling her towards him. She responded by sitting on top of him and pressed her torso against his. Her hand was on his chest, feeling him through his shirt.

Remy broke the kiss with a small smile in response to the desperateness in her movements as well. He moved from her mouth to her jaw, kissing her until he got to her neck. He could feel the breath hitch in her chest. His hand outlined her body, running down her curves until his hand made it underneath her shirt. He could feel the scars across his skin, but he paid them attention only enough to trace them softly with his fingers.

His mouth returned to hers, and when he did so she arched her back to press fully into him. Her hips slid forward to rest closest to his body, perfectly positioned to work him up. She slowly rocked her hips so that he could feel her.

He ran his hand down Raven's spine and back up again. She nipped at his bottom lip and worked her fingers deeper into his hair.

In unspoken agreement, Remy maneuvered his hands to lift her shirt off over her head. She provided him some help, only breaking their kiss enough to remove her shirt. Remy pushed her down the couch, his hand trailing patterns up her abdomen until he made it to her breast, massaging it underneath her bra. Raven's legs clasped around his ass.

The hand that had been placed on his chest moved down to his beltline, and her hips slipped away just enough to undo the clasp on his pants. Remy broke the kiss again and used his hands to pull down his pants and threw them off to the side. His hand returned to her body as he leaned over her, but instead of moving back to her mouth, he lightly bit her collarbone. Her body arched up into his again, her hands roaming over his abs and downward.

Remy walked over to his landlord's own apartment and knocked on the door. The door appeared a tad brighter than any other apartment he had to offer, but that didn't mean that it was nice. When he didn't answer right away, Remy raised his hand to knock again. On the second rap, the door swung inward enough to snap tight against the chained bolting it to the frame. "What?"

"Ain't dat a way t' greet y'r fav'rite tenant," Remy replied in one of the friendliest voices he could muster at the time.

"Oh, you. Right. What are you doing here? You just paid."

"Couple'a weeks ago, oui. Dat ain't why I here, mon copain. Dat da last payment I got. Be leavin' by da end o' dis week. Gotta move on." When the man didn't give a firm answer, Remy tossed him a smile. "Gonna miss me?"

The man snapped to his wits, a grumpy demeanor still about him. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"What else you need me to say, bozo?"

"Jus' makin' sure you understand, dat all," Remy told him. He turned his back on the man then, striding back to his apartment with a pace more confident than was possible for months.

As soon as Remy made it back inside his apartment, he pulled together his meager collection of clothes, packed them onto his bike, and took one last look around the apartment. He didn't really have any memories that he was sad to leave behind. His time with Raven wasn't even enough to reminisce about. Remy hadn't seen her since she left his apartment the following day. Before Remy walked out the door, he set his keys to the apartment on the kitchen counter and left without another glance.

Remy didn't know how his trip would turn out. All he knew was that New York wasn't where he needed to be. He realized he was in constant fear of running into the X-Men. Even worse, he didn't know what he would say to Ororo if he encountered her again without a specific agenda. He couldn't face her again. She was probably one of the best friends he'd ever had. Ororo knew when to refrain from talking and let Remy take solace in her presence, but she also knew him better than nearly everyone he knew. With one exception. Rogue.

If there was an inkling of a chance of Rogue still being alive, Remy didn't think she'd still be around Salem Center. If she had managed to avoid the prison by a miracle of a chance, she may have gone home. That was the only thing Remy could think of.

He had hoped that he'd have been able to recuperate after the prison. He hoped that he could have gone back to being the person he was before his time behind bars. That hadn't happened. He was constantly on his toes – more so than before – and paranoid. Remy was afraid to use his powers. He hadn't even charged a toothpick since he'd gotten everyone out. He was afraid of his scars. Remy avoided his eyes every time he had the chance to see his wrists. The angry white marks that crisscrossed his chest, shoulders, and back were less visible to him, but he knew he couldn't look at himself in the mirror anymore. Whenever he saw his scars, he felt an emptiness inside him.

Raven hadn't said anything, but it wasn't her opinion that counted. No matter what Remy did, he felt dirty. He didn't know everything that had happened in that prison, and the sole reason he had let himself get caught was for naught. He was powerless. He was useless. He was a meek little creature. For the first time in his life he was put in his place and he understood it. There was no going back from there.

Some weight lifted off of Remy's shoulders as he drove down the interstate away from New York City, but not all of it. Much of it was tethered to him and no matter what he did, it would stay. All he hoped was that finding Rogue would help.

He needed to find Rogue.

But Remy couldn't find Rogue.

Rogue was dead.

Remy was searching for a ghost.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sinister Exhiliration](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973159) by [KifuSlick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KifuSlick/pseuds/KifuSlick)




End file.
